#Guys do you know Lavender doesn’t follow me

[mr-walkingrainbow]

Me, typing the lines "By then, Toralei was trained well past the need for a guiding paw, and could ruin her relationships on her own with perfect skill.": oh walking rainbow is going to love this

I DO. I DO.

YOU KNOW ME SO WELL!

beSTIES LOOK WHAT LAVENDER HAS PROVIDED US. CRUMBS! TORALEI BEING A GIRLFAILURE CRUMBS!

[jubshead]

𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐤

Paring: Mentor!Lilia Calderu x Reader

Summary: With volatile and unpredictable magic you never know what can happen.

A/N: Still grasping how to write Lilia, so I hope it’s in character!

This isn’t beta read and english isn’t my mother language, so bear with me.

I hope you guys like it, let me know!!

Warning: Accidental magic, magic cock, blow jobs, vaginal sex, creampie, large dick.

Word count: 3.7k

Date: Nov 09, 2024

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome!

Masterlist | Taglist

Tag list: @yourbasicqueerie @mgruiz @yippie-kai-gay @confuseuniverse @aggieharkness @thesharkwhalewhoohooooo @walkethisway @honkhonktheslutshere @ratsnestinmyhair @audreylise @kenzie-floops @pattiluponespopcornmaker @moonlightprincess696 @trindad2k @etherynn @astrxinze

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

The kettle makes a hissing sound, the boiling herbs fill the room with a sweet scent and the morning sun shines into the stove. The gray haired witch hums a tune under her breath and walks around the room, collecting more ingredients for the tea. She feels freshness in the air, an inkling that something good is about to happen. 

Sundays are always calm, she closes up the shop for the day and entertains her apprentice. You’ve been working under Lilia’s guidance for a month, being the only witch in your family meant that no one could teach you. You were lucky enough to stumble upon her one day when browsing on your computer. 

You aren’t a divination witch, you still don’t know what your deal is, but your magic is volatile and unpredictable. Lilia teaches you with the best of her abilities, and that is more than you could ask for, you look up to her and dream of reaching her level of wisdom. 

As you enter the shop, you hear her moving around in the back. Walking into the room, you halt when the tarot reader stops in her tracks. Her entire body freezes and she lets out an unrestrained moan in the middle of the kitchen. 

Pursing your lips, you wait for her ‘episode’ to end.

“Hi.” You let out timidly, standing by the bead curtain. 

She turns around, wide eyed and arms raised in the air. 

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned. 

She waves you off with a flick of her hands, facing the stove once again. Her visions always seem to sour her mood and leave you anxious, more times than not, she doesn’t know what they mean.

Passing the strap of your bag over your head, you place it on the squared table before heading to the counter. Resting your hip against it, you observe Lilia grab the kettle with a towel clad hand. 

“Do you want some tea, doll?” She pours it in two mugs before waiting for an answer, you nod either way. 

She passes you the ceramic cup and you rapidly grab into the handle when it burns you. The aroma hits your nose and you groan. Lilia always makes the best beverages and this time you smell a blend of lavender, lemongrass, and a few other herbs you couldn’t quite identify. The taste is as divine as the scent. 

“How have you been this week?” She leans next to you. 

“I’ve been fine.” You tell her uncertainty and amends. “There have been a few accidents…nothing I couldn’t handle, though.” 

She hums into the mug as she takes a sip. 

“And those ‘accidents’ were?” She probes.

Swallowing the liquid, you hide your face behind the cup.

“Okay. Let's start then. The sooner you can control your magic the better.” She walks past you, her robe fluttering behind her. 

Leaving the empty cup in the sink, you follow her to the middle of the room. 

“Did you practice what I told you?” She asks patiently. 

“Hum…” You hesitate. “I did.”

“And?” All her weight shifts to one leg as she places a hand on her waist.

“Well, it worked!” You exclaim, trying to lay her off. She raises her eyebrows, waiting for you to continue. “To a certain extent…”

“Okay.” She takes a breath in and straightens her spine, arms at her side. “Show me.” 

Transfiguration. 

You’ve moved beyond learning how to change the corporeal form of an object, and have now evolved to modifying the physical appearance of yourself and others. What she’s teaching is pretty basic, but for someone who didn’t know she was a witch for most of her life, it’s hard to grasp, especially with a temperamental magic like yours.

Closing your eyes and concentrating, you feel goosebumps rise up on your skin as your magic flows through you. When your powers are under control, they feel like a waterfall being released, spreading over your body and consuming you. Outbursts were a very different story.

Opening your eyes, you see your mentor gently smiling at you. 

“Good, that’s good.” She praises, and you break into a huge grin. 

Receiving her approval is something that always warms your insides. 

Grabbing your hairs ends, you observe the change in color. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was enough for you to see your improvement. You turn the purple strands back to their natural color. 

“Great. My turn.” She says encouragingly. 

Pressing your tongue against your lips, you grimace at her.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“You have to learn.” She tells you firmly before adding. “As a witch, you must know how to defend yourself.”

You blink at her. 

“Relax, baby. Anything you throw at me I can reverse.” 

Your brain short circuits at the pet name.

That was probably your downfall. Lilia always tells you true witchcraft takes time and concentration, especially for beginners. 

Her expectant face makes you close your eyes, and let the magic flow through you again, but this time it's different. Your head thinks of nothing else besides Lilia’s voice and how she called you, you can’t focus on your intention and you feel the spell going wrong before it’s completely finished. In an attempt to join your jumbled thoughts and the power running over your skin, you imagine Lilia with longer fingers. 

It doesn't seem to work because in a few seconds you hear a screech.

“Divine Mother.” 

Peaking through one eye, you first glance at her face, her reaction making you expect a major change in her appearance. She looks the same, her hair still tied up, her nose doesn’t look bigger like some sort of wicked witch and her eyes remain the same color, the only thing you notice is her shock. 

Her arms are raised breast level and that’s the next thing you look at. Expecting sausage like fingers, you’re surprised when you’re met with her usual handful of rings. 

“What?” You frown. 

Your gaze drifts over her figure and that’s when you notice the bulge in her skirt. 

Squinting, you almost crouch down to get a closer look. The thing is huge, cylindrical and pressing forward, clearly constricted by something. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with what’s in front of you and you stare long enough for Lilia to clear her throat. You glance up and it dawns on you. Oh, god. 

“What were you thinking about when you did the spell?” You gape like a fish out of water.

Was she honestly continuing the lesson as if this wasn’t happening?

“Well, I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking about that.” You gesticulate widely, a blush rising in your cheeks. 

She pinches the bridge of her nose and sways. The movement makes her skirt brush against the hard on and you gulp when your vision is automatically drawn to it.

“Concentrate.” She tells you firmly and you meet her eyes, pursing your lips.

“Why are you losing? That’s a simple transfiguration spell, you can undo it. You just told me that!” 

“No, it isn’t.” She speaks calmly, noticing she’s making you anxious. “This is a magical penis, a much more advanced incantation. You shouldn’t be able to do this at this stage.”

“Okay…?”

“There’s no way I can make this go away.” She speaks to you like someone does to a child. 

“What?” You ask, agitated. 

“Advanced magic, harder to undo.” She tells you simply. “There’s only two ways to get rid of it. The caster has to be the one to take it away.”

“Well, let's do it. It’s not that difficult, right? I’ve already put it there.” You respond with renewed energy, waving at her crotch.

This is not going to be a bigger problem than it should. 

“No, it’s not easy. You did this by accident.” Your sight strays to it again and it looks like it’s staring right back at you. “You need to focus this time, so you can do it consciously.” 

You hum absently before closing your eyes. The problem is: the image of that monster is buried in your brain. You focus on it, but the only thing that crosses your mind is its size, what it would be like to have it throbbing in your hands, pounding into you...

“Stop, stop, stop.” Lilia huffs in front of you, turning around and sitting on the armchair.

“What, what is it?” You follow her and stand by her side, she rests her forehead on her propped hand, eyes closed.

“You made it bigger.” She tells you pointedly. 

The penis really does seem magic, it hypnotizes you and you can’t take your eyes off it. Whenever you notice Lilia isn’t looking, you glance down, partially seeing the bulge covered by her dress and robe. 

Wetting your lips, you ask. “Well, what is the other way?” 

“Huh?” She’s clearly lost in thoughts. 

Moving to perch in front of her, you focus on her face. 

“You said there are two ways to get rid of it. We tried the first one, what is the second?” 

She presses her lips and you wait. 

“It needs…release.”

“Oh.” You slowly back away towards the door. “I’ll leave and you can…y’know?” You finish by making a lewd motion. 

She narrows her eyes, you stop dead in your treks. A small breeze fills the room as you linger, sensing there’s something more.

“It needs to be sheathed.” She pauses. “Climax inside something.”

You take a deep breath before asking. “Is there…Is there someone who can help you?” 

God, you didn’t know anything about her personal life. Meeting every sunday meant you’ve only seen each other about four times, and there couldn’t be a worse situation to ask her that. 

“No.” She tells you and, by the way she answers, you refrain from making any more questions. 

The morning sun shines over the room, in the distance you hear cars passing by on the street and the silence hangs as you stare at each other. 

You are embarrassed to admit, but it doesn’t take long for you to reach a decision. As much as you try to fool yourself by claiming that you wanted to help because you were the one who put her in this situation, you know it’s bullshit. Lilia has you on her hands, you’ve been attracted to her from the start and there weren't enough words to describe what she does to you. 

Watching as she looks up, praying to her goddess, you move. She brings her head down to follow you with her eyes as you kneel in front of her. 

“What are you doing?” She asks you seriously. 

“I’m helping you.” You respond, lightly placing your hands on her calves. 

Her palm rests on your cheek and you lean into it. 

“You don’t have to do this.” 

“I want to do it. It's my fault you’re like this.” Seeing the hesitation in her face, you grab her wrist. “Please, let me.” 

She stares you down and gives you a tight smile. 

“I- Are you sure?” 

You nod more excitedly than you should, the eagerness accidently showing on your face. 

She doesn’t say anything else, so you take it as a ‘yes’. Her body is leaning forward, her elbows resting on the arms of the reclining chair and you feel how tense she is. The bulge is right in your face and with trembling hands you roll up her skirt. 

The gasp that leaves you is involuntary. Butchin her dress at the waist, you take a moment to look at it. It’s mostly constricted by her underwear, but you can clearly see how big it is. You take a deep breath before pulling her panties down.

You stare open mouthed. The length is as white as her skin, the head is a light pink and a few gray hairs dust her balls. It weirdly matches her and stands proudly in front of you. The hard on seems painful. 

A monster indeed.

“This looks uncomfortable.” You mumble, unable to take your eyes off it. 

“It is.” A constrained chuckle follows the statement. 

Biting your lips, you wonder how to approach this. You’ve never been a blowjob type of girl, when you used to date men you always avoided as much as you could, and even when you did it, it wasn’t enjoyable. This feels different, though. Your underwear is already wet just by thinking about it. 

Your mentor clears her throat and you peer up at her. 

“You don’t have to do this.” Her hand runs through your hair. 

“Lilia, relax.” You tell her forcefully and grab her thighs. 

One of your hands circles it and her hips buckle, palms fly back to the armchair and nails bite into the fabric as you slowly start to move. By the way it looks, it won’t take long for her to come and a feeling of disappointment dawns on you. It makes sense for a magical penis to be ready for action, but you wish you could take your time with it.

Running your thumb from the base all the way to the head, you collect the pre-cum in there before pushing it back and making the same path with your tongue. Lilia groans and you feel her tension melting a notch. You replace your fingers with your mouth, licking the bead before swallowing it whole. 

It doesn’t take a genius to notice that this thing isn’t going down your throat without choking you, so you focus on what you can do. Taking as much as you can, you make up for the rest with an unclosed fist, using just the right amount of pressure so as to not hurt her. 

Sucking tentatively, you hear a moan and look up. Lilia’s eyes are close, mouth open as her chest rises rhythmically with her anticipated breath. Her fingers are white from the grip, and you realize she’s holding herself back from grabbing your head and forcing you down. 

You groan over the cock and bob around it, your palm going to her balls and massaging them. Eyes fixated, you watch her every reaction as she stiffens under you. 

You feel your arousal beneath your own skirt, it clings to your core and you refrain from using your free hand to touch yourself, compensating by placing your heel under you and matching the movement of your hips with the one of your head. 

Taking a moment to breathe, you feel hands sweeping through your bangs. Glancing up, your eyes meet your mentor’s and you blush when she grabs your hair like a ponytail, taking it out of your face. 

“You’re doing great, doll.” Her voice is husky, you squirm against your feet. 

God, this is not helping. 

You swallow at the praise and focus on your job. Still looking into her eyes, you descend and take it as much as it goes, swirling your tongue around it and bouncing as fast as you can. She tugs your hair harder and you whine against her skin, the vibration making her tear her eyes away as she throws her head back, letting out unrestrained moans as slurping sounds leave your mouth. 

Grinding your hips against your heel, you feel yourself getting wetter by the second and curse for having to take care of it alone. Her groin starts to move in its own accord, she doesn’t even seem to notice as her crotch drives up and harder into your mouth, you swallow and swallow against her, focusing on your breath and controlling the rhythm. She isn’t forcing your head, just holding it and that’s fine, it’s hot that she doesn’t want to hurt you.

Drool starts to drip down your chin and you moan louder against her, feeling the erratic movement against your clit picking up speed alongside your head. You close your eyes and take in both sensations. After all, it isn’t everyday that you get to suck your mentor’s dick. 

You force your head back and inhale deeply, the faster the movement, the harder it is to breathe. Your hand continues the work and the other one joins in, circling her head and pressing it. 

Pushing her cock closer to her skirt, you go down to her balls, sucking one into your mouth and sooner than you expected, her whole body tightens. She lets out a loud moan and her nails sink into your scalp, you quickly try to catch her climax in your mouth before it’s too late. 

An inch away, you feel a sticky consistency gushing onto your face, landing inside your mouth all the way up to your forehead. 

You grimace and lick your lips, tasting the saltiness of her cum. 

Passing your finger over your eyelids, you sculpt most of the liquid and open them when you hear a ‘thud’ above you. Lilia banging her head against the armchair. 

“Goddammit.” Her chest rises and falls with her erratic breath, there’s a red hue on her cheeks. 

“Sorry.” You mumble.

“It’s not your fault. I should have warned you.” She looks down and shock flashes across her face. 

You must be quite an image with cum stuck in your hair and dripping down your face. She stares at you for a long time and you squirm, taking your heel out from under you before anything else happens. 

“We can try something else.” You whisper. 

“No, love. You’ve already helped more than you should. I don't want to force you a second time.” She runs her thumb over your cheek, vaguely attempting to tidy you up. 

“You didn’t force me, and I’ve told you before that I don’t mind.” Emphasizing your statement, you grab her wrist and bring her finger to your mouth, sucking, licking and moaning around it. 

Her pupils blow hide and she turns serious, following your movement as you stand up in front of her, lifting your short skirt and straddling her lap. 

She stares at you, eyes slightly wide and lips parted. The erection stands between you, a magic cock apparently only goes down once it services its purpose. Your wet underwear touches her thighs and a beat passes before you gather enough courage to lean forward. 

Grabbing her neck, you give her time to pull away. Surprising you, she grabs your wrists and pulls you forward, crashing your mouths together. Moaning, you let her tongue guide the rhythm, she makes slow movements, exploring your mouth like she wants to taste as much as she can. The kiss is languid and teasing, she takes her sweet time and you begin to rub your soaked core against her legs.

Separating, you watch as she licks her lips, looking at you like she wants to eat you alive. You brush your underwear against her cock and she groans, grabbing your waist. You’re so painfully turned on that you don’t even wait for her to say anything before you reach down and push your panties aside. 

Rubbing against the hard cock, you try coating it with as much of your wetness as you can. It’s been a while since you had anything this big inside you, if ever. It looks a lot bigger than the ones you’ve seen, your hand hadn’t closed around it before. 

It’s going to be a stretch. 

You take a deep breath before raising up on your knees, you brush the head against your entrance and Lilia’s grip hardens. Sinking down on the tip, you pause, licking your lips before continuing. You take it half way in before stopping. This shit wasn’t only wide, its length was something you had never seen before.

Noticing your struggle, the gray haired witch leans forward, attacking your neck and sliding your shirt straps down. Her hands run from your waist to your breast, her fingers pinch your nipples and you moan, feeling wetness stick to your thigh before your core swallows more of her skin. 

Slowly sitting, you feel your center stretching before your ass finally meets her balls. You halt, adjusting to the sting. Lilia’s work on your tits helps. Your spine is slightly curved as she grips your ribs and her mouth bites and sucks your chest. You feel hickeys forming in your neck and you can bet she did it on purpose, you’d have to walk around with those purple marks for about a week. 

She runs her tongue over your nipple while her hand massages your other breast. You begin to slowly grind your hips in circles motion, a vibration reverberating through your chest as she moans. 

Accepting the pain as pleasure, you lift yourself once and then lower. Your mentor stops her work and bites into your neck, hands gripping your waist tightly as she helps you with your movement. 

You’re so desperate that you can’t even tease her, after trying once, you continue, picking up speed with Lilia’s assistance. You’re both so aroused you can feel your orgasm building up rapidly. Throwing your head back, you moan without restrain, mirroring your mentor’s groans against your neck. Her arm circles your hip and she slams into you, meeting you halfway. 

Her cock is so big, you can feel it beating against your cervix and hitting all the right places as it fills you up. Her free hand goes down and finds your clit easily, rubbing in circular motions. You let out a cry and your movements become erratic, determinedly chasing your release as your walls grip her. 

She’s clearly holding back and when your movements become sloppy as your body goes rigid, she lets go. You both come together, ragged breaths mingling and sweat clinging to your foreheads. 

You feel her cum filling you up, the hot liquid doesn’t seem to stop and you kiss her once more as she spurts inside you. This time the kiss is faster, harder as you pull her hair and whine against her when she grabs your ass and accidentally rubs your clit against her skin. 

The cum starts to run down your thighs and wet the fabrics between you, her cock still throbs inside and you feel her balls shrinking in size. There’s an absurd amount of fluid and you groan against the kiss, the cum making you excited once again. 

Pulling back, you focus on the feeling of her cock decreasing inside you as it disappears, you instantly miss the feeling of fullness. 

Kissing her for a third time, you calmly run your tongue against hers as you replay all this morning's events. Thanking your magic for the mishap, your eyes widen when you remember something important. You pull back.

Licking your suddenly dry lips, you frown at her and whisper. 

“Should we have used a condom?” 

Her mouth drops open. 

[prettyboykatsuki]

do you see anyone other than me? (baby please) | rafayel (lnds)

✮ tags ; rafayel x fem+ afab!reader, established relationships, dom!reader, sub!rafayel, gentle femdom, oral (m!recieving + some f!recieving), anal (m!recieving), praise kink (so much), dirty talk (SO much),pegging / topping, top!reader, bottom!rafayel dry orgasms 18+

✮ wc ; 6.9k (come on man)

✮ a/n ; reader and mc do not share a personality in this. reader is intentionally meant to have like... a more serious personality. so they are mc but not at the same time if that makes sense sdkjskj.

also i know this guy but only a little bit. i was planning on binging the main story after caleb got released but got ?? caught up writing this?? this has happened twice im so scared

✮ synopsis ; making sure rafayel actually forgives you is at the top of your priorities.

When you come home  from the office, take your shoes off, and turn the corner into the living room—you know without looking that Rafayel is in a mood.  

Not a good one.  

It’s something in the air, a lingering tension that makes all movement stiff as you attempt to navigate through the unease. You find Rafayel on the couch. Soft, deep lavender waves tussled like he’s been tossing and turning - pressed into the side of the couch. All curled up small.  

Somehow, you just know what sort of attitude you’ll be met with. You know your lover well enough to know that he’ll be moody but you’ve less confidence in regards to what that mood may be.  

Taking a deep breath, you step into the wide expanse of Rafayel’s living room and studio. His head turns, bangs falling in his face as you slide your work bag off from your shoulder to set aside. Your keys, noisy as you set them down, even gently—trying to leave the air undisturbed. He’s looking at you from over his shoulder but realizes he can’t completely see you that way. Instead of standing to his feet to come greet you, he drops his head back on the arm of the couch to stare at you upside down in a tense silence.  

You give him a look. His mood is sour. Maybe more than you thought. He smiles first, then frowns unhappily before turning his attention back to what he was doing. You hear small scratching noises—he’s sketching. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there doing that, since he usually just prefers to paint without thinking too hard.  

After that, he doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t greet you, either.  

“I’m home.” You say evenly. You think about being placating from the jump, but without knowing his exact reason - you worry you’ll only worsen the state of affairs.  

Rafayel hums. “Welcome home.”  

Your brain wracks through every possibility on what could be the source of this level of moodiness. Sometimes, his moody behavior is for kicks but it’s not this time. If it was, he’d lay it on thickly. Act theatrically towards you, get in your face about it. 

But he’s tense, forceful—every scratch of his pencil is too harsh like it’s rife with irritation. You tread carefully.  

“Can I sit with you?”  

“Why are you asking? Don’t you live here too? Just because I bought the couches with my money doesn’t mean—“  

“Rafayel.” You say, interrupting him. He scowls at you. “Can I?”  

As if more bothered by you being level, he huffs. It’s followed with a business smile over his shoulder. “Sure. Do whatever you want.”  

You choose to sit on the empty end of the couch where Rafayel does his sketching - fitting yourself in the gap of his space near his feet. You slide yourself in then gently lift his legs into your lap. Rafayel gives you a look when you do this, clearly debating on whether or not he should reject your act of goodwill. Ultimately he stays. 

Notably, while his pencil is still scratching on paper - you think by this point he’s not really sketching anything at all.  

“I got off of work late,” You explain. You rest your hands on his calf gently. “There was an incident near the station but it was a false alarm so I ended up being cleared.”  

“Oh? Is that so?”  

Warm, you think. You nod.  

“There’s been a lot of Metaflux increases in the residential districts close to our headquarters. It’s odd.” You explain. Rafayel is quiet, looking at his nails disinterested. You go on, not taking offense. “Strange as it is, there’s been no active threats. Still, given the location, it needs a lot of man power to be investigated.”  

Rafayel sits quietly, unreadable. You continue on. “So it’s been busy. I think we’ve cleared the level of threat, so another team will probably take over soon.”  

“Hm.” Rafayel says, a petulant edge to his voice. Warmer. “So that’s why you’ve been so late this week. I guess it’s good that nothing happened. It must’ve been difficult, so difficult if you could barely spend time with your one and only lover. But I guess it’s fine, it’s not like there’s anything you can do in that circumstances. Well, you could’ve done a lot but if it didn’t occur to you there’s nothing to be said, then again—why would it—“  

Hot. “Rafayel.”  

“What.” 

“I’m sorry for being late,” You say.  

A beat. His frown deepens.  

“And?”  

You pause before answering, smiling apologetically. “For not keeping in contact with you more.”  

Some of the life returns to him. You’ve deduced the source of his bad mood, which means the only thing left is to alleviate it. You don’t like seeing him upset. He’s quick to forgive you, always optimistic and trying to keep your relationship lighthearted.  

But there is an underlying desire in him that makes you more conscious about any minor infringements. Despite himself, Rafayel is more concerned about you liking him than he’ll ever let on in  his life. Even when he’s upset, he’ll forgive you - but the feelings linger until they explode. When he gets like that, it’s much harder to comfort him.  

It’ll fester if you don’t apologize properly. You know him well enough to know that and you love him well enough to not want to see when disaster strikes.  

(Plus, there’s something about the way he’s still pouting. He’s trying to relax, but it’s there. It’s cute to you. It makes you want to kiss it better.) 

“I’m sorry,” You offer. You reach for the hand resting in his lap and he lets you take it, though it’s limp. You press a kiss to the back of it, eyes full of affection. “I’m not used to having someone wait for me,”  

Rafayel makes another face at you, unreadable. “Not just anyone.”  

You laugh lightly. “That’s true.”  

Squeezing his hand tighter, you kiss it one more time. “Can I make it up to you…?” 

“I don’t know. Can you?”  

“I’d like to,” You offer, another kiss - just higher on back of his hand. Closer towards his wrist. “Whatever you wanted.”  

“Whatever I want is a tempting offer, Miss Bodyguard. What a talent for bargaining you have, indeed. Maybe you should try bidding a one of my auctions, just to see.” 

“I’d bid too high off the bat. I’d go bankrupt,” You tease back, a sweet lilt to your voice that makes Rafayel’s eyes shimmer, fond of your wit. “Would you be willing to keep me if I gave it all up that way, I wonder?”  

“Since it was for me, I could consider being merciful.”  

You give him sincere but small smile and Rafayel seems to warm up seeing it. He can be coy, even playful about his affection but there’s something about him today that feels more shy then it does anything else. 

“If I can ask for whatever I want,” Rafayel starts. “Maybe we could start with paying back your dues. After all you owe me your full undivided attention after your week of neglect.” 

“That’s easy.” You say, charming. Rafayel makes a face at you that makes you want to laugh. “I wanted to give you that anyway. Is that all?”  

“Are you telling me to be more demanding? You think that’s a wise choice?”  

“If it makes you happy, I’ll play the fool.”  

It’s corny, deliberately not something you’d say to anyone else or at any other time. Something that Rafayel might say to you in a different circumstance, so in a way you’ve simply beat him to the punch. He goes through several feelings, each passing over his expression. Amusement to disbelief to embarrassment even he can’t cover up too easily. 

Great risk comes with great reward. Yours is a smiling Rafayel, boyish and amused. Color returned to him, a playful air of mischief about him.  

“Well if you’re that desperate to make it up to me, then I guess I could try to forgive you. Gosh, you must be so desperate if you’re willing to act this way. You’ve totally fallen for me, haven’t you?”  

Yes, you think. Too much of that at once and he’ll get shy again. You’ll have plenty of coaxing to do later so you keep the thought to yourself. You smile at him instead. “So, you’ve anymore demands for me, my liege?”  

Rafayel hums before breaking out into a grin. “Hmm. For now, just one.” He offers you his hand. “Take me upstairs.”  

__  

Rafayel has a way about him, with you and only you, that makes you especially weak to his advances.  

Whatever those advances are, however taxing on you they may be—there’s so rarely a time where you can tell him no. He likes having that much influence over you, no matter what his particular mood is. If he’s feeling the desire to keep you under his thumb or be at your mercy. Whats central to him in each instance is that he has the full breadth of your attention, your desire, and most importantly—your lacking will to resist.  

You like it all because you like Rafayel. Like how it feels trying to hold onto him as  he slips between your fingers.  

If someone asked you what you like most, though - it’d be this.  

Not quite at your mercy but expectant of your devotion. Crystalline eyes and long, straight lashes blinking up at you with unwitting demand, crowding around you mercilessly. A gaze that weakens you, disarms you, demands your propriety.  

“What are you thinking about?”  

His words come out more annoyed than he wants them to. Your eyes come back into focus to Rafayel on top of you, in your lap as you lean against the headboard. His weight settled like he’s something that fits there perfectly and he does. Your hand reaches for his lower back, eyes tracing down the damp skin. Button shirt opened just loose enough to catch glimpse of his collarbones, with only boxers underneath. Your hands run down his sides, smooth down his bare thighs - mesmerized by cream colored skin that begs for blemishes. 

His expression bewitches you even when your mind had prepared you for it. You smile almost lazily, drawing him just a little closer to you until your noses touch. “Of you.”  

He scoffs at you. “Is that so? Not that you have no reason to think about your perfect, darling lover—it’s just that it seems like he’s the last thing on your mind these days, so you know,-“ 

You kiss him. It’s only partially to shut him up. It’s mostly because him talking makes you look at the shape of his mouth, the curve of his lips—the way he’s pouting at you. It’s almost too much. You part after a minute, careful not to deepen the kiss.  

He has something to say after the fact, dazed - hands on your shoulders trying to give himself the room to speak before you kiss him again.  

But you don’t relent. You kiss him harder, a hand around the back of his neck - slipping your tongue against his lips in the way you like. He doesn’t concede. You’re not really expecting him to. He kisses back even harder like he’s trying to prove a point - teeth digging into your lower lip. A little too sharp for human, but perfect for him.  

You pull away breathless. A hand still on the nape of his neck, sliding around enough to feel his pulse under your thumb. Thump, thump, thump—rabbit quick. You smile at him suggestively, proving him displeased.  

“Don’t interrupt me. Trying to kiss me when I’m airing out my complaints is unprofessional and rude, I’ll have you know.” 

“I’m sorry,” Your lips brush his jawbone. “It’s hard to think about talking when you’re half-naked on top of me.”  

“You can be so vulgar. It’s shocking. You’re usually all serious and about work and then sometimes you look like a dog waiting to be told it can have the treat on it’s nose,” Rafayel says airily. Fake haughty, voice colored with coyness. You look up at him. “Does it really count as making it up to me if all you’re doing is lusting after me?”  

You don’t deny him at face value. “You set the standard. You tell me. Do you feel like I’m still making it up to you or should I work  a little harder?”  

There’s something between you. A spark of electricity that fizzles and pops, tension deepening. Rafayel likes playing tug of war with you. Even though he’s expecting to be pampered - there’s nothing easy about letting him. But it works when you keep yourself even. Eager. Having your desire and lust for him out in the open gives him the power again and he likes that, even when it’s mostly pretend.  

“Work harder. You have to earn your paycheck Miss Bodyguard.” He says. You laugh a little, sitting up a little straighter.  

“Yes boss,” You reply. You lean forward, pulling his weight down as your hands slide underneath the loose, flowy button up. Your hands find his waist, holding his sides before gliding them up on the planes of his back. He’s got lean muscle, a swimmers build that feels tight to the touch.  

You kiss him on the lips again, tongue sweeping against his lower lip. Rafayel playfully rejects it when you do. You pull away one hand to cup the back of his neck and force the kiss deeper, tongue pressing the closed seam of his lips until he yield and lets you. He melts at the gesture rather  unwittingly, the softest little whimper sounding as you feel your tongues touch. It’s a wet, hot kiss. Mouth sticky with spit and saliva.  

“I’m working hard so you shouldn’t be too hard on me,” You say playfully. Rafayel rolls his hips, makes a noise for you as he huffs. “I want to make you feel good.”  

“You’re—“  

You interrupt him again. Not with a kiss on his mouth this time, but a chaste one to the very corner of of it - trailing down the soft curve of his jawline. You make the pressure on his neck featherlight. Thin skin prone to being sensitive, he melts at the soft touch. Cranes his neck up subconsciously to give you access to it. In the spirit of pampering him, you bite at the skin with a genuine hunger. Marking each bruise with a kiss first, you sink your teeth into him without remorse. Incisors scraping the delicate area before you suck hard, broken capillaries throbbing underneath your tongue when you lick them after the fact. 

 Deep, deep shades of red and purple bloom all over the column of his throat. It doesn’t feel like enough to you still.  

“My neck hurts from all your biting.” His voice comes out in wet pants, betraying the sentiment. You laugh warmly at his attempt to diverge.  

“Does it? Should I be gentler, then?” You offer. After you feel like you’ve marked his neck enough, you press another feather-light kiss right where his adams apple sits. Another on his clavicle. When it gets to his collarbone - you don’t do anything more than brush your lips.  

Rafayel whines. It’s a throaty sound that makes your whole body break out into a shiver. Such a pleasant sound on the ears that your mind pictures instantly what other sounds he might make if you just had your way with him. It uncovers a selfish part of you. You could flip him over on your bed and take him if you wanted. Fuck him until he sings as punishment maybe for being tempting like a siren drawing a lone sailor into deep waters.  

You keep the thoughts to yourself, and keep your composure. You ask again instead. “Come on. Tell me. Do you want me to touch you more gently?”  

He fusses in your lap. You grin. “What’s the point in being gentle now if you’re being so rough to begin with? The change would be just weird, you know.”  

“I guess it would,” You let yourself lick the same places you just kissed. You bite then hard enough to leave a mark and Rafayel arches himself into it. “It’s better like this then, right? If I leave marks all over you, then maybe you’ll feel less lonely when I get busy again.”  

“I should get to leave them on you too. Your memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be. A physical reminder might do you some good, yes.”  

His voice is trembling, despite himself. You pull away to look up at him, and catch sight of a fragility you sometimes forget he’s capable of. Brows drawn into a furrow, lips pulled into a pout. Like a wound reopened inside of him that he’s so desperate to cauterize but can’t. You want to kiss the lines between his brows and get on your knees for it. A proof of your affection.  

“I’m sorry for being careless,” You say, sincere. Rafayel looks ready to quiet you, concerned about the mood but you proceed anyhow. You lift his shirt up and hold it to his mouth, and he bites without your instruction. Bare chest exposed to him, you flit your gaze to his face. “I can’t do anything but try to beg your forgiveness. Still,”  

You kiss his sternum, your hands on his waist. You fingers trail down his sides, hands sliding back up to chest. His nipples are hard, damp skin cool to the touch. Your warm him with your fingers, rolling over the sensitive tips. Rafayel makes a muffled noise, his cock twitching responsively.  

“All I ever really think about is you,” You say. Rafayel gives you a long, unreadable look as you toy with his chest. “I’m not the type to half-ass things so my thoughts always revolve around you. Finishing work to come home to you. If you’ve eaten or if you locked yourself in the studio to paint all day. If we should go somewhere together on my day off.”  

You lean forward and stick your tongue out, taking his nipples into your mouth. You roll the other one with your hand to increase the pleasure - content as you watch his face begin to flush. He watches you so closely, the tips of his ears burning a bright red. You suck hard, wetting them with saliva before you take them gently between your teeth and tugging.  

“I’m not good at balancing work with play. I’m also not very friendly so you’re the only person I’ve ever spent so much time dating” You hum, nuzzling his skin. “I’m sure down the line it’ll be harder. But, if it helps, it’s true that my heads always filled with you.”  

Your hands grip his waist, pushing his hips forward slightly as you suck and bite his chest again. A line of saliva connects you both as you pull away - teethmark indentations in their place.  

“I want to make you feel good,” You maneuver Rafayel until he’s underneath you. His expression reads as overwhelmed but the faint blush blooming all over his skin and the hazy look in his eyes makes you confident he’s feeling more than just uncertainty. More like restlessness. A desire to be touched as he lays on his back with you looming over him. “And to touch you everywhere.”  

You lean into him, trailing kisses down the his chest. You can feel his pulse quicken again as you touch him, spreading his legs as you put your thumb inside the waistband of his boxers.  

Like this, he looks especially enchanting. The sleeves of his shirt pulled over his palms, button-up bunched up underneath his chin, and tight gray boxer briefs snug around his hips. Your bedroom, dimly lit, casting shadow on the sinewy muscle. His chest heaves with anticipation, stomach tense as your lips trace a path down from chest to navel. Excitement wracks through his body.  

You put a hand on his stomach and look up at him. “I want to leave my mark on all of it. I want your body to remember I felt this deep inside of you and shiver. You’ll be able to think of me half as much as I think of you.”  

Rafayel heaves, eyes glossed over. “Shit, you’re so unfair. It’s like you have two personalities or something. Are you tricking me? Is it actually you in there?”  

You smile a little, pleased by his reply.  

You follow your instinct, sliding his boxers off and tossing them somewhere. Rafayel is hard. So hard it looks like it hurts. The tip of his cock is ruddy, wet with pre-cum and swollen. His dick is long. Stands up with a straight curve. You breathe on it, making Rafayel flinch with anticipation. Your eyes flicker up to his face, terrible pout betraying his feigned moodiness..  

“Don’t tease me,” He voices. Arousal strikes through you like hot iron at the whine of his voice. Almost pitiful.  

“Not today,” You promise. 

You making yourself comfortable between Rafayel’s legs, sticking your tongue out to taste him. He smells like soap and skin, but the scent is still so arousing. Your head is heavy with it, senses suffocating, hands stabilizing themselves by grabbing hold of his thighs. Rafayel looks near overwhelmed from even the slightest touch. It’s uncharacteristic for him to be so quiet. Almost meek. He must be aching for you more than he lets on.  

You let his cock rest against your face, nuzzling it with your cheek. His cock responds sweetly to the lewd act. He lets out a sigh about, subtly trying to shimmy away from the touch. Unable to win against your grip, he sinks back into the bed and takes a long breath.  

“Keep your eyes on me,”   

In the business of spoiling him, you leave your teasing to a minimum. You gather spit in your mouth and spit it onto his cock with force - relishing the his breath hitches. How his eyes widen just slightly. You stroke his shaft with a tight grip, bringing your head down suck lightly below the shaft of his cock. His head falls back again, mouth open in a silent plea.  

Rafayel keens for you when you work him with the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. You use your hands to fondle him while you shift your attention to his length. Your lips placing hot kisses up until they stop at the slit - tongue dipping into and tasting precum. Salty and warm. You wet your lips again and brush them against his cock - watching the way his expression shifts at the sensation, lightly sucking as you build yourself up having him in your mouth.  

He pitches his hips with desperation that spurs you to give him more pleasure. You open wide to take his cock into your mouth. The weight of it feels good. Arousal clouds your mind as you hollows your cheeks and stick your tongue out over your lip. He’s throbbing so hard it makes you lightheaded.  

A minute passes as you just hold him in your mouth, getting your jaw used to the sensation before you put in work in making him feel good. Like steel over your velvet, you use your tongue to lap at the sensitive skin while spitting and drooling. You’re making a mess. The room echoes with the filthy noise of you swallowing and choking on Rafayel’s cock.  

“Oh, fuck.” 

Your eyes flicker up to Rafayel, trying not to crack a smile at the state of disarray he’s in. His expression is so twisted from pleasure. All of his features reflective of it. His blush seems to creep down even further the longer you go. Your body gradually heats up, core throbbing as you take him down. Take him slowly into the narrow canal of your throat, eyes watering.  

You ease yourself down the very base - nose pressed against his navel, tongue over your lip. Rafayel’s fingers curl into the sheets underneath you trying not to buck his hips.  

“Get off of me, I’ll cum.” He says, almost panicked. “Your throat feels so good. Y-your mouth is so hot and it’s making me feel so good, can’t—I can’t. You gotta get off or—”  

His words of protest fall on deaf ears as you spread his legs even further. Wanting to make him feel better, you part them. 

 You’re greeted by pretty pink hole - already wet for you. A stream of spit follows as you pull off him. 

 Rafayel heaves in relief.  

“You got yourself ready,” You say, less than ask. Rafayel rolls his eyes.  

“So what if I did?” 

“I wanted to do it for you.” You reply, pretending to sulk. “Told you I wanted to spoil you.”  

He blushes further. “Don’t you have any sensibility? You’re doing more than enough. Being excessive, even.”  

“I don’t believe in being excessive when it comes to you,” You hum. Sitting up, you reach over the bedside table for a bottle of lube. You pour it in excess on your two fingers before coming back down between his legs. The bed creaks under your weight.  

Lube drips from your two fingers onto Rafayel’s hole, thick as you push the excess with two fingers. Both go in so smoothly it makes you smirk. He’s soft inside. It’s so easy for you to put both fingers inside of him, even easier to find his prostate - swollen from arousal. He must’ve fucked himself open like this on three fingers given how easily yours follow.  

“It’s so wet inside. You must’ve really wanted me to fuck you.”  

“So what if I—aah—did?”  

“Well, I wanted to take you apart nice and slow.” You say, slowly rubbing your fingers against his prostate, pleased by the little oh noises he makes when you. Cum spills from the tip immediately. He’s so sensitive. You divulge your plans to him as you stretch him. “First with my mouth once or twice.  I was going to save fucking you for the end  but—“ You push your fingers deeper. To the knuckle. His eyes shoot wide open before his voice breaks into a moan. “Since I’m making it up to you you, I was wondering if I should just cut the chase and make you cum on my cock over and over and over. Maybe you’d prefer that.”  

Rafayel’s eyes go wide. You feel a sense of accomplishment knowing without him telling you. He clears his throat, strangely sheepish.  

“It’s not like the other stuff feels bad or anything—“  

You make eye contact with him, sitting up on your knees. Your other hand cups the back of his neck as you press a third finger inside - fucking it in slowly. Rafayel moans unabashedly as you do. His skin is feverish as you press your forehead to his, noses brushing. The wet sound of you stretching him open makes you dizzy, shared breaths between you filling worsening your appetite for him.   

“It’s not what you want though, is it? Not today anyway.” You say, leaning close enough to kiss. You don’t follow through, your voice low on a whisper. “Tell me how you were picturing me fucking you in the shower. I’ll give you whatever you want today,”  

Rafayel seems to let go of the last threads of fight in him as you approach like this. You’re in the thick of your wanting for him. Your body and your mind hunger to make it feel so good it looks like carnage to everyone else. To be pleasured so ruthlessly he can barely move 

He’s rarely too shy but right now he’s in the depths of his desires. He moans sweetly like this. It’s not a sound you can coax out of him easily. It sounds so perfect still. Mouth fallen open, his hands finding purchase in the back of your shirt.  

“Want you to fuck me deeply,” He pants, like it’s straining to even thinking about it. “N-not too fast, but not too slow either. Want you, hngh,” Shivering, he tries to speak coherently as your eyes meet - lips barely touching but almost. “To p-praise me and—“  

You grin. “You want to pampered while I fuck this pretty little hole, right?”  

You push your fingers in harder. He whimpers. It’s loud and broken and makes grip on you tighter. He just nods. “Please. Fuck, please - need it now. In me, please.”  

It’s exactly the words you’re interested in hearing. You kiss him on the lips deeply. He sinks completely into the touch, malleable under your fingertips.  

“Shh, I know.” You hum, soothingly. Rafayel whines from the loss of contact as you pull your hand away.“You earned it. Just a little more.” 

You stand up again on your knee, stripping yourself of the remaining garments left on your body from the work day. You unhook your bra and take it off along with your tank top in one go, tossing it somewhere on the floor. 

Next come your slacks, tight from the way you’ve tucked silicone cock up against your stomach to be ready to fuck. You put it on earlier while he bathed - tucking it in your pants to keep it out of the way. Seeing you unzip your work slacks and have a heavy silicone cock fall from them evokes a reaction in Rafayel that endears you endlessly. A bitten lip while a shiver wracks through him. 

Deciding your pants will get in the way, you make quick work of wriggling out of them completely before returning between Rafayel’s legs. You spit in your hand and stroke yourself with it, wetting your cock before letting it rest against Rafayel’s own. 

“How do you want it?” You ask.  

“Like this,” He says, unmoving. He seems certain on that end but he’s hesitating. “But I want you to…” 

He looks away. You try not to grin but fail.  

“You were being so bold a second ago,”  

He rolls his eyes. “Well a second ago someone was trying to rearrange my insides so I didn’t have to think very hard,”  

“So, should I do it again, then? I think we’ll get better results that way.”  

“You’re so noisy. I don’t pay you for this,” He pauses. “I want you to hug me while we… like be close to me.” 

You pause before smiling gently. You’re so charmed by the innocence of it. It’s so unlike him. Being away from you must’ve bothered him more than he cared to admit. Softening, instantly - you lean forward and press your lips to his forehead.  

“Sure. Anything else?”  

“Ugh. Not for now. But it’s annoying. I should be running you into the ground by now but here you are,” 

“Making good on my promise?,” You finish. Rafayel doesn’t refute you. You kiss his shoulder blade. “Anything you want today. I’m yours.”  

“Say it again,”  

“All yours.”  

He wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you down. “…Hurry up and fuck me then.”  

Complying with his wishes, you sit back on your knees as you line your cock up with Rafayel’s entrance and push. He gasps as you slide the fat head of your cock in, a wicked smile on your face as you watch his hole stretch out and around you. Three fingers is more than enough prep. It makes filling him so easy.  

Still, the stretch - the feeling of being full is nothing like just fingers. You watch as Rafayel’s body adjusts to  it. Inch by inch, you rock your hips forward gently until he’s swallowed your cock up half-way. He’s trembling as you lean forward. Waiting for you to bottom out before he pulls you forward for as much skin to skin as he can have. Your chest squishes against him.  

When his hips roll for you to go deeper, you take it as a sign. With all of your strength, you hold onto his waist bury yourself inside of him in another single thrust. His nails dig into your shoulder, his voice next to your ear as you. Tightening his grip, he cries out at the sudden movement 

You can feel him shake underneath you, cock clenching hard while you hold him.  

“Fuuck,”  He goes stone stiff underneath you before starting to tremor more violently. “Fuck, oh fuck.”  

Realization dawns on you a few seconds later. “Did—did you cum just from putting it in?”  

He opens his eyes and frowns at you.  

“Shut up. I didn’t get to cum earlier.”  

You laugh. “You’ll kill me being this cute. I don’t know what to do.”  

“I could give you an idea if you’re going to just sit there,”  

His impatience amuses you.  

“Sorry. I’ve got you. Cum as much as you want.”  

You anchor yourself, pulling out slowly and internally groaning at the resistance as you do. How his hole grips onto you so tight it feels nearly hard to move despite know how stretched he is. A phantom sensation fills your waist as you feel his stomach shift as you thrust.  

Heeding earlier requests, you use your hips to set a pace to fuck Rafayel the way he wants. The ins and outs of his body come naturally to you now. Finding the right pace, the right motion, the right angle - all come easier to you than you even remember. On muscle memory, you hike Rafayel’s legs up and begin to fuck him deep. Not too fast, not too slow - but consistent in grinding against that sweet spot. Deliberately thrusting your hips up, you try to direct all the remaining focus into fucking him as good as you can.  

You know you’ve hit the right places when his grip on you gets tighter. His legs locked around your back, Rafayel is a mess underneath you even when you’ve barely begun. Like he can’t stop cumming, his body helplessly wound as your hips clap his ass.  

The moans that come out of him, broken and sweet. More angelic then pornographic but lewd enough to make you dizzy with the urge to pin him up and fuck him harder. Groaning when you fuck him just right. You can feel his cock against your stomach with how close your bodies are as you grind - twitching. Pre-cum leaking in long spurts and wetting your skin. 

You coo at him feeling it start to be easier to fuck him.  

“It’s just like a pussy, huh? You take me so good inside of you. It feels like you were made for it,” You press kisses wherever your lips can find the skin. On his face, his mouth, on his shoulders. You can barely make sense of your own filth, your mind moving on it’s own as your body chases its own arousal. Your clit is grinding against the base of your strap-on so well like this, you could easily chase the high and find your own orgasm with seconds. You’re too busy paying attention to make well on it. “I like when you act cute like this. Usually you’d put up a fight about it but you’re asking without fuss. It’s precious seeing you fall apart on my cock.”  

He moans your name like an incantation, another dribble of cum spilling. He can’t stop cumming. Just shuddering beneath you, his face in your shoulder and panting like he can’t find the words.  

“All mine, yeah? Everything, all of you. It’s all mine to tend to, so you can be as selfish as you want.” You hum, encouraged by the whimpering repetition of please in his voice. He’s being so pliant, so good. You can’t help yourself. “Take when you need. Cum when it feels good for you. I want you to feel good. Want to make you feel so good you can’t stand it. Think you can do that? Come on,”  

Rafayel moans brokenly into your neck. “I’m g-gonna cum so hard, fuck—feels like I can’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me,” 

“Shh it’s okay. I wont stop until you tell me.” You tuck yourself against his neck, kissing it before biting his ear lobe. He gasps. “Don’t think about anything other than cumming for me.”  

“Fuck,” His nails dig into your biceps, coiling you around as you get close. “Fuck me. P-please—I’m cumming, I’m cu -“  

Rafayels whole body stiffens under the weight of your body. You fuck him steady, pinning him down as he cums. His cock pushes hard against your stomach, twitching helplessly as his cum spills in streams. His back curls up, gripping onto you tightly as he moans loud and unabashed, euphoria splintering through his muscles. You fuck him through it until he rides out his high - his body loosening up as soon as it passes.  

The sound of cum unsticking from your skin as you part from Rafayel makes you grin. You pull back out of slowly and get on your knees. You use your hand to wipe the cum off of your stomach and smear it against Rafayel’s hole.  

“You made a mess,” You say brightly. Rafayel pants, looking up at you. Before you can ask, his voice trembles. He weakly reaches for your hand.   

“Let me make you finish,” He says, abrupt. You blink at him owlishly. “Please.”  

“Isn’t this about you?”  

He frowns, looking at you seriously.  

“It is. And I’m telling you I want you sit on my face and cum on it. Please.”  

You give him a look before breaking out into a laugh. You stand onto your knees and undo the buckles of your harness - shimmying out of them. “I can’t refuse you if you ask like that but I don’t think it’ll be long.”  

“It’ll just be once for now,”  

“For now?”  

He nods matter-of-factly. “You still owe me after the crimes of neglect you’ve committed against me.”  

“Right.”  

“And I’ve decided I want to exercise my rights to eat pussy until sunrise.”  

“I see,” You say bemused. “And this is… revenge I take it? And not perhaps, an act of goodwill towards me.”  

“I have no reason to show you good will, do I?”  

You break out into more laughter. 

“Right. We’ll be even after today then, at least.”  

“Hurry,” Rafayel says again, after settling it. Same puppy dog look in his eyes as before, back in instant. You can’t help but be charmed by how quickly he reverts back into desiring your attention.  

Rafayel lays down as you take your strap-on off and crawl over towards him. Deciding you’re not done with him for the day - you stand on your knees just over his chest and spread your pussy apart for him to see. He’s not expecting it, evidenced by the way his eyes go wide at the sight. 

“Even without cumming, making you feel good turned me on this much. Is that what you were hoping to know?”  

Rafayel goes flush again. “I never said that.”  

“So difficult,” You hum. “Come on. Can I sit?”  

Rafayel barely masks his enthusiasm as he nods. You crawl over him further before carefully setting yourself above his face. You try to avoid letting the full weight rest on him, but Rafayels hands are on you in an instant. With the same desperate grip he had while you were fucking him, he pulls your thighs down until your pussy is in his mouth - tongue out and lapping up wetness instantly. You shiver at the desperate movement of his tongue. 

It gets your body hot all over again. Your fingers thread through the purple strands of hair for anchor as you push yourself against his willing mouth like you’re fucking his face. Your own desires hadn’t crossed your mind until now, but now that you’re aware of it - that familiar restless lust returns to you tenfold You shiver as the familiar flames of arousal stoke back up inside of you.  

Your gut honeyed, sticky lust making your limbs feel thick. You use your other hand to tweak your nipples as you rock your hips back and forth. Rafayel lies underneath you obediently, eagerly - his hands helping you move at the pace you want without complaint. He always manages to surprise you. His willingness to give to you making you feel weak in the knees.  

Already so worked up, it takes you hardly any time to reach your climax. You feel it in your waist, body going slack as the knot inside of your stomach uncoils. You let out a short cry, hands tightening in Rafayel’s hair as you cum all over his face - swearing as you do. You feel Rafayel moan against you, reverberating through you as you ride out your high and finish.  

You pull away from his sated, pulling back to see him wiping his chin before licking his fingers. The look in his eyes sends an amused sort of arousal through you.  

“You look like you’re going to eat me.” You say. Rafayel nods.  

“I mean… I’m certainly trying.”  

You laugh tiredly, swiping your thumb against his cheek with a smile.  

“After we clean up and have dinner,” You say. “I have some mandatory time off so I won’t be called in.”  

“I won’t let you sleep,” He says, clingy again - face pressed against your thigh. You grin. His many moods make you so weak to him. 

You bend down to kiss his forehead.  

“I wasn’t planning on it.”  

✮ a/n ; rafayel fans . let me know if this was okay im lacking confidence but i had writing him. i want to keep like a spoiled housecat maybe.

[satoruxx]

pairing: poly!sashisu x f!reader | 2k words summary: mentions of injuries, sashisu fluff, tiny bit of angst, pet names, shoko is literally wife, suguru is super touchy lol, satoru's a menace but he loves you, protective sashisu, extra protective satoru, shoko and satoru bicker for like half of this lol rheya’s note: offers you more of these three and runs away (sorry guys they literally won't leave my mind i swear they'd treat you so good)

one look at shoko’s frowning face and you’re already nervous, squirming in place as she leans in close to inspect your body. you have to take a deep breath—because while normally her close proximity makes you flush and stumble over words, this time you are anxiously silent.

because you can tell that she is anything but pleased. her eyes are narrow as they take in the wound on your stomach, lips pursed like she’s holding back a scolding.

which you know, you definitely deserve.

she scoots her stool closer to the examination table you’re sitting on, fingers coming up to undo the makeshift bandage you had tied around your torso in the midst of the mission.

you try to hold back your wince as she pulls away the fabric that sticks to your blood, but she catches it. she’s always been overly observant.

you shake your head at her when her gaze flickers up to assess your pain levels. “i’m fine.” you don’t mean for your voice to come out so hurried.

“looks like it.” her voice lacks the usual warmth, normally so sweet as she teases and dotes on you like you’re the only thing in her world. but this, this disappointment that she’s not good at hiding, has something in your chest tugging.

you think you might go crazy if she doesn’t smile at you in the next few minutes.

“oh c’mon,” you shrug, laughing carelessly because it’s not that bad. “it’s fine. besides i have a great doctor. i knew i’d be okay.”

shoko takes a deep breath, honey brown eyes boring into yours when she looks up again. “listen to me—” there is something odd about the way she’s speaking that has you sitting up a little straighter. “this is the one thing i hate doing for you.”

your mouth clamps shut, any trace of a smile gone.

“hell babe, i’d do anything for you,” she sighs, leaning closer to your face—so close you can see her dark lashes brush her cheeks when she blinks. “but i hate hearing that i have to come down here and heal you.”

the intensity of her gaze has you chewing on your lip again, an action that her eyes follow. but she doesn’t say anything else, leaning back to continue her work—though there is a freer air about her, like a pressure has been released.

you don’t say anything either, too focused on her and her pretty eyes and her warm hands and the way she loves you.

you hear the sliding door to the infirmary open, and immediately feel a familiar overwhelming presence worming its way into the room.

“you serious?” satoru’s voice goes high at the end of the question—barely concealed panic. “what the fuck happened?”

you hold back a grimace knowing that his focus is only trained on your wound. “it’s not as bad as it looks,” you offer weakly, but satoru is already in front of you, brows drawn tight in anger and something else.

“like hell,” he hisses, eyes darting between your face and body. “you almost died!”

“stop yelling at her.” suguru’s voice comes out exasperated as he enters, shooting satoru a weak glare—but you know him well enough to catch that he isn’t happy about this either. he takes a few steps until he’s directly in front of you, crouching next to shoko’s stool so that he’s in your line of sight. lavender eyes take you in, and you can see the the relief that seeps into them.

his palm comes up to gently hold your cheek. “okay baby?”

you’re nodding before he even finishes, doing your best to reassure because if there’s anything you hate it’s making him worry.

making them all worry.

suguru’s hand remains attached to your skin even as he turns to look at shoko. “how bad is it?”

shoko doesn’t look away, focusing on her hands as she sighs. ”it was deep. definitely could’ve been bad but…she’ll be fine.”

her eyes flicker up to yours, and you bite your lip nervously. you hear suguru inhale, fingers twitching against your cheek.

it is satoru who breaks the silence.

“what were you thinking?” he asks, low as he grits his teeth. there is a wild look in his eyes, cerulean glazed over with something you can’t quite place. the tone of his voice has shoko and suguru sharing a look, one that you don’t have the time to decipher because you’re too focused on the way satoru is clenching his fists.

your shoulders drop. “you’re mad.” it’s a statement, not a question, and you see the sharp look suguru sends satoru’s way.

“i’m not—” satoru inhales abruptly, interrupting his own words. “just—”

he stops speaking.

“he wants you to be more careful,” shoko fills the silence, still staring at your abdomen. “you can’t be careless like this.”

there’s a dip in her brows, one that matches the downward tilt of her lips. she doesn’t look at you, and you think you can feel the slight tremor of her hands as they press against your skin.

her expression has you unable to look away, feeling oh so cared for and protected under the warmth of her healing.

so you nod mutely, and almost cry in relief when you see the twitch of her lips as she finishes healing you. suguru chuckles under his breath, his empty hand lacing through your fingers and squeezing—a message that only you understand. “good,” he sighs, tilting his head fondly. “take care of yourself—at least for our sake, yeah sweetheart?”

shoko throws satoru a look even as he crosses his arms and glares at the wall, refusing to look at you. “that goes for you too, dummy!”

satoru’s head whips around to throw her an appalled glare. “i’m plenty careful!”

shoko wordlessly reaches out and tugs up his shirt, where you can see the faint remnants of a fresh battle scar. “didn’t i heal this for you not two days ago?” she rolls her eyes. “and the fact that you can heal it yourself is even worse.”

satoru pulls his shirt down and shoots her a glare that’s half a pout. “well maybe i wouldn’t be so bad at it if you were a better teacher!”

“like i’d spend my free time teaching you.”

“did you just wake up mean one day or were you born this way?”

“idiot. i told you—it’s fwoo, then hyoi!”

“what the hell does that mean, sho?!”

you watch the two bicker with a smile, and suguru looks down at you with a mirrored expression. “scared us a little there, baby.” he lowers his voice, palm sliding through your hair as he pushes a few strands back.

“didn’t mean to,” you grimace, leaning into his touch. “but it seriously wasn’t that bad.”

“i know,” he answers, eyes heavy with affection and fatigue and all the depth in the world. “we weren’t expecting it is all. we came back and nanami let us know what happened. satoru threw a fit y’know?”

you wince internally, knowing that it probably wasn’t very pleasant. “he did?”

“he’s an idiot but you should know he’s crazy about you, sweetheart.” suguru smothers an amused huff. “he stopped hearing anything after they said you were hurt.”

you don’t know what to say to that, but you don’t have to, because suguru’s smile widens like he understands. he always does.

“didn’t mean to make him worry,” you mumble, watching as shoko lazily punches at satoru’s gut, to which he dramatically groans even though he’s the one who had his infinity down for her.

“i know,” suguru grins, fingers brushing over your shoulder almost carefully. “he does too.”

you suppress a smile, feeling oddly grateful as you watch satoru whine and complain when shoko shoots sarcastic remarks at him.

something about all of this that makes you feel so blissfully comfortable.

“okay alright guys,” suguru finally sighs, shaking his head. there’s a tinge of amusement in his voice even as he shoots them an exasperated glare. “give it a rest.”

“she started it!” satoru says—indignant.

shoko huffs, rolling her eyes. “whatever.”

she turns back to you, gently cupping your cheek and rubbing her thumb over your bottom lip. “feeling okay, babe?”

“yeah,” you nod, feeling your skin warm under her touch. “feels a lot better.”

she stands up with a soft smile. “good. then you’re free to go.”

suguru exhales, his smile becoming a little more eased as he pushes your hair away from your neck. “that’s good. let’s go home then, yeah?”

you nod, starting to pull your shirt and uniform jacket back on. suguru steps away to give you room, standing next to shoko who nudges his shoulder affectionately.

“you know, i bet you do things recklessly just so that shoko can heal you,” suguru says to you—a teasing glint in his eyes.

you look up and grin, dramatically covering your mouth. “don’t expose me like that! i’ve been getting her attention like this for years!”

suguru laughs even as shoko shakes her head in amusement. “silly girl. you’re crazy.”

“you can’t blame me,” you shrug playfully, buttoning up your shirt. “it’s your fault for being such a good doctor.”

suguru squeezes shoko’s fingers in agreement, no doubt still lingering with the warmth of her technique. she laughs to herself, rolling her eyes fondly as she watches you finish getting dressed. “you should take a nice bath, babe.” she grins at you. “i can help you if the injury’s still a little sore.”

you nod and suguru smiles, slinging an arm around shoko’s shoulders. “good. then we’ll go back to the dorm and get it ready, yeah?”

you smile at them gratefully, no words needed, and they return the expression before heading out.

the echoing of the door sliding shut pierces the silence between you and the strongest. satoru is staring at the tiled floor like he’s about to kill it, shoulders drawn tight with tension.

you sigh, looking up at him almost meekly—so unlike your usual interactions. “you still angry at me, toru?”

you see the effort with which he exhales, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes just barely concealed by dark frames. he turns to take two full steps towards you, until he towers over your sitting form—and while most people would find it intimidating, you have always found satoru’s overwhelming presence to be a comfort.

his fingers reach up to push a strand of your hair away, deliberately tucking it behind your ear before his hand rests against your jaw. “‘course not,” he answers, voice low. his thumb traces over your jawline. “just panicked.”

“sorry.” you turn to press your lips against his palm, and you see his features soften.

he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your temple, an uncharacteristic softness that only you are privy to see. “‘s okay.”

“but you know i can take care of myself, right?” you ask him, almost imploringly because you have never wanted to look weak in front of someone who is so strong. satoru grins, eyes glinting with what almost seems like pride as he ruffles your hair.

“duh,” he laughs, taking your hands to pull you off the examination table. once you’re standing he slings an arm around your shoulders and presses his nose to your temple. “i’d be stupid not to. you’re crazy strong, y’know?”

you try to hide your pleased smile, even though you know that being acknowledged by him—by all three of them—will forever be what keeps you going.

“well at least you know,” you grin, and satoru rolls his eyes, fingers coming up to poke at your side.

“don’t get cocky.”

“look who’s talking!” you retort and he shakes his head, amused. satoru’s grip tightens imperceptibly, and you think yours does too, something telling you that you’ll never be able to let him go.

“c’mon sweets, let’s go get you that bath now, yeah? sho and suguru are probably waiting.”

you hum, a gentle smile tugging at your lips when you hear his words. you wrap your arm around his waist, leaning into him as he walks you back to the dorm—walks you home.

because that’s what the three of them are to you—home.

[p0ckykiss]

to the moon and back - choi soobin

summary -> who is sending you these letters….they certainly know everything about you, more than you expected. perhaps a stalker?

warnings -> stalker soobin x female reader, yandere

the crinkling of the perfectly sealed envelope and the unfolding of the delicate paper with the most intricate handwriting. swoops and swerves and strokes marked with the darkest ink.

a secret admirer? you smirked to yourself. it sure was such a flattering thought to think you had a secret admirer. you began reading the beautifully crafted words.

dear y/n.

your beauty simply astonishes me. i want to run my fingertips along your smooth bare face and breathe in the scent of your lavender perfume. you’re running low on it, have you noticed? make sure to buy more. it’s simply my favorite scent in the world. the lasagna you made last night looked scrumptious. would you save a piece for me? you’re the most beautiful girl i have ever come across. love you to the moon and back.

a gasp. what in god’s name..? that certainly did not live up to your high expectations. the paper floated to the pavement like a snowflake falling from the sky. your shoes smacked against your long driveway as you bounded up to the front door.

the click of the lock and the shuffle of curtains closing all around the empty house. you grabbed your perfume bottle and threw it down. the glass pieces scattered across the dark hardwood floor, reflections from the sunlight cascading off of the tiny fractures.

lavender isn’t your scent any longer. not after some creep told you it was his favorite. were you being watched? what a creep. an actual stalker. just the thought sent a shiver down your aching spine.

days passed. nothing out of the ordinary seemed to make it’s presence known. no unwanted letters or mysterious envelopes with a pearly white lace trim. you actually allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief. you should’ve known to hold your breath

dearest y/n

oh how i’ve missed that sweet perfume of yours. are you sure you got all of the shards? they were quite plentiful. has that cut healed yet? i’d be more than willing to aid you back to good health. i know you keep the bandages under your bathroom sink. do you know i’m always thinking of you? that black dress you tried on looked magnificently ravishing. no date to homecoming though. let me know if you need a plus one. after all, i’m always watching. i love you to the moon and back.

a high-pitched, shrilling, terrible cry left your vocal cards and pierced through the frostbitten coldness of the afternoon sun. what kind of sick person would go to such lengths? your home, now a place you no longer feel safe in. a shame that is. it really is a beautiful house.

letter after letter after letter. the sender iust wouldn’t quit. the harassment continued and ebbed and flowed like curves in a river. a display of different emotions. happy letters, creepy letters, sad letters. and, your least favorite.

angry letters.

dear y/n,

aren’t you going to write me back? are you not the least bit curious as to who i am? such a shame, really. think you and i would really hit it off. you were getting close to beomgyu yesterday. just friends, you are? hm. it doesn’t seem so. the flirtatious touch of a boy and a girl, and all in front of me? you dare hold his hand in front of me? and to think i really liked you. well, i won’t stop so easily. i’ve got my eyes on you, my love. i love you to the moon and back. -s

a clue! a sign of the quote on quote secret admirer that’s been occupying your mailbox with stacks of words as tall as the highest mountain range. but just a letter. one singular syllable. s. s? s could mean a myriad of things.

another letter followed by a scoff. this guy really has the nerve. he doesn’t scare you anymore. you tore through the envelope, not even trying to be careful this time.

dear y/n,

you betrayed me. what did i say about beomgyu? now you’re taking him to homecoming? what about little ol’ me? you smile when you text him. ive noticed you never smile while you read my letters. is that because you’re not aware of my identity? it’s not like i hide it. you should know by now. i thought you were smarter than that. you’re wearing a new scent lately. lilac, was it? it soothes the nose. but i certainly miss the lavender. i cant wait to see you in your dress tomorrow night. i love you to the moon and back.

your head shot up from your burned gaze on the tear stained paper. he was watching you this whole time? was he watching right then? right now? how incredulous: you need to get out of here. your safety is on its last lifeline.

one more envelope. one more beautifully scripted letter. one last word vomit of all of the things he wanted to say. needed to get off his heavy chest and share with you.

dear y/n;

you’re not going to accept my love, are you? that kiss you shared the other night was a sight for sore eyes. you had to stand on your tiptoes to reach, even in your heels. i guess that’s your type. why isn’t it me? well, i suppose i should give up. he’s won. i don’t want you to feel threatened, so i won’t watch anymore. unlock your doors and leave your curtains undrawn. you’ll be just fine. but still, i love you to the moon and back. -soobin

[anonymousewrites]

Lavender for Royalty; Sage for Wisdom (Book 1) Chapter Fifteen

Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Chapter Fifteen: Gardenia for Secret Love

Summary: The Host Club needs to fix (Y/N) and Kyoya's friendship, stat!

            “(Y/N), do you want to come with us to tail Hikaru and Haruhi on their date? It will be fun!” said Tamaki, smiling at (Y/N).

            They looked at him from where they sat reading and glared. “No.”

            “…You’re still mad at Kyoya,” said Tamaki, wincing.

            “I’m a host, not his servant. He doesn’t get to order me around,” said (Y/N).

            “You know Kyoya didn’t mean it like that,” said Tamaki, coming in and sitting down next to (Y/N).

            “Really? It sure seemed like he does, and Kyoya says what he means,” said (Y/N).

            “Yeah, but, come on, Kyoya would never really order you around,” said Tamaki. He smiled at (Y/N). “You’re friends, remember?”

            “He still did. I’m a host who can get told how they spend their time, apparently,” said (Y/N).

            Tamaki looked at their face and saw their anger shift slightly. Sadness shown through their expression, instead. “Kyoya respects you. He just…wants you to not leave us.” It was as much explanation as Tamaki could give.

            “I wasn’t going to. I’m still not going to,” said (Y/N). “I wasn’t even considering going out with Tooru.” They put their book down and crossed their arms. “But Kyoya just…He acted so condescending.”

            “I think you two need to try to communicate,” said Tamaki. He nudged their shoulder. “Kyoya can explain that he just got a bit protective—” (jealous) “—and you can say you weren’t planning on saying yes. Then you two will be alright.”

            (Y/N) deadpanned as they looked at Tamaki. “Are…Are you trying to explain to me how to properly communicate feelings?”

            Tamaki posed. “I am the king the of the Host Club.”

            “…Right.” (Y/N) chuckled slightly. He was an idiot, but at least he was well-intentioned. “Fine. I’ll talk to him—”

            “Oh, good, we reserved a table at a restaurant in town for you two for lunch!” said Tamaki.

            “Are you going to follow us?” said (Y/N), raising a brow.

            “No, we have to follow Hikaru and Haruhi. And Kyoya would yell at me…” Tamaki pouted. However, he wasn’t down for long and quickly perked up again. “But once you guys all talk, then we’ll all be okay and be able to spend the rest of our week having fun!” He grabbed (Y/N)’s hand and dragged them up. “Now come on!”

l

            (Y/N) took a deep breath and squared their shoulders. Then, they pushed open the door of the restaurant and walked straight to the table where Kyoya—punctual as ever—already sat at. Silently, (Y/N) sat down across from him. They both glanced up, made eyed contact, and looked back down at the menus in front of them.

            How do I start the conversation? I shouldn’t have to. He was the one who made this into an argument. I was going to say no. Besides, I can date if I want to. The only person I want to date is him, but still… (Y/N) kept their eyes glued to the menu

            They aren’t speaking to me. Very well. They should have known that hosts can’t—shouldn’t—date. It would distract them. Besides, someone like Tooru who barely knows them doesn’t deserve them. They deserve someone who knows them and would treat them well. Kyoya held the menu tightly. Like me. I was quite…forward in my interruption of Tooru, but I maintain he doesn’t deserve them.

            “Can I take your orders?” A waiter appeared beside them.

            Kyoya and (Y/N) looked up, and without looking at one another, they ordered. Silence descended over them once again when the waiter. Both Kyoya and (Y/N) were too stubborn to be the first to speak, and so the silence continued awkwardly even as their food was brought to them and as they began to eat.

            Finally, after a torturous hour of silence—wow were they obstinate—Kyoya looked up from his food. (Y/N) was usually quite open and spoke to him readily, and, as much as he hated to admit it, the lack of their voice was frustrating (actually, it made him sad, but Kyoya wasn’t ready to admit that he had more emotions that satisfaction and annoyance).

            “Tamaki wants us to talk,” said Kyoya.

            (Y/N) raised their eyes and looked at him. “Okay. Talk.”

            “I have to, first?” said Kyoya. “I did nothing wrong—”

            “You tried to order me around like I’m not your equal,” said (Y/N). “I thought we were past that.”

            Kyoya paused. That was how it had come across? Of course it had. (Y/N) had no idea that he respected them more than he did most people—in fact, more than every other person he knew. “That…isn’t what I intended.”

            “Enlighten me, then. Don’t say you interrupted Tooru because I’m a host,” said (Y/N). “I know that had nothing to do with it. I’m not stupid, Kyoya.”

            “You’re not,” said Kyoya. “I would never imply you are.”

            “Then why did you interrupt Tooru?” said (Y/N). “I was going to say no.”

            Kyoya was quiet for a moment, and (Y/N) patiently waited for him to speak. They could see this silence was not stubbornness, it was Kyoya deciding on how to phrase his thoughts (in this particular case, he was figuring out how to not confess to (Y/N) on the spot.

            “He…does not deserve you,” said Kyoya. He looked at (Y/N). “You deserve someone who knows you and can give you the world.”

            (Y/N)’s heart felt like a drum in their chest as they gazed at Kyoya. “So you were…”

            Don’t say jealous. If Kyoya was so transparent, he might have rethink his entire sense of self.

            “Protective,” finished (Y/N).

            “…Yes,” said Kyoya.

            “Kyoya.” (Y/N) smiled slightly and put their hand out. They touched his, and he looked down at their hand covering his own. “You don’t need to protect me. I know you worry—” the incident on the beach had proved that “—but I know what I’m looking for in a relationship.” You. And you fill the requirements you’ve set. (Y/N) smiled. “And I was going to say no, clearly. I don’t know Tooru. Let me give my thoughts first. If you have concerns, you can bring them up to me later. Okay?”

            Kyoya looked at them. He didn’t want to say yes. He didn’t like watching people flirt with (Y/N) without knowing if they’d say yes or not to going out. He’d much rather handle everything himself so that he didn’t have to be jealous. But… “Very well.” Kyoya respected (Y/N) too much to say no. “I overstepped. I apologize.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “And I apologize for shutting you out. We should’ve talked it out earlier.” They tilted their head.  “So, are we alright?”

            Kyoya’s hand turned over where (Y/N)’s covered his. He took their hand gently. “Of course.”

            (Y/N) smiled, and their cheeks warmed. “Good. Good.”

            And for a moment, they sat there together, just gazing at one another’s eyes with their hands intertwined. This was…perfect. This was what every day should be, just them, together and comfortable as if they were the only people in the world.

            If I could have these moments with them forever, I would be happy. I lo—

            Just sitting with him is nice. If this moment lasted forever, I would never tire of it. I lo—

            As soon as those thoughts entered their minds, (Y/N) and Kyoya pulled their hands back. They were both composed individuals, but neither was able to keep calm with such flustering thoughts in their mind. (Y/N) smiled slightly at Kyoya, though, before looking back at their food. Kyoya smiled to himself.

            They were no longer fighting. Everything was right in the world once more.

l

            “Ah. It’s raining,” said Kyoya when he and (Y/N) had finished, paid (he’d paid) for their meals, and stepped out to head back to the pensione.

            “I hope Haruhi is alright,” said (Y/N) as thunder crashed. “She is afraid of thunder…”

            “Hikaru should be with her,” said Kyoya. “They’re on a ‘date’ to get them to get along again.” He nodded. “My car is here. We can head back and check on her from there. Due to the rain, they’ll cut their date short.”

            “Alright,” said (Y/N), nodding. Still, they glanced up at the stormy clouds with worry.

l

            “Hikaru and Haruhi aren’t back yet?” said (Y/N) as they entered the pensione and didn’t see the pair.

            “You two are together!” Tamaki smiled. “Your talk worked!”

            “Do not think your interference was the reason,�� said Kyoya. “We would have talked tings over with or without you.”

            Tamaki pouted, but Kyoya didn’t looked at him. He wasn’t letting Tamaki’s ego grow bigger than it already was.

            “Hikaru is calling,” said Kaoru, answering the ringing phone. “Hey, Hikaru?” A pause. “Eh? Are you coming home by foot? What about Haruhi?” He sighed. “You argued again and split up?”

            Tamaki’s eyes widened, and he grabbed the phone. “You got in a fight and left?! Hikaru! You didn’t see her get in the car, did you? If not, go back!” Clearly, Hikaru was putting up a huff. “Go back and find Haruhi. You jerk! Go back right now! How dare you leave a girl behind in the rain! Before you throw a fit like some jealous brat, think about how others might feel! Haruhi is afraid of thunder!”

            (Y/N) and Kyoya exchanged a surprise look. Tamaki’s truer feelings had come through in a surprisingly mature manner.

            “Kyoya, we’re using your car to find Haruhi and Hikaru!” said Tamaki. “Let’s go!”

            “Hikaru will call me when he finds her,” said Kaoru, nodding.

            And, soon enough, they did find her. Hikaru had tracked her to a church and sat with her while the thunderstorm raged. He hugged her while she shivered, showing a level of maturity he had not yet shown. Tamaki smiled and helped carry an emotionally-exhausted Haruhi to the car. As (Y/N) watched, they tilted their head. Perhaps he hadn’t realized his true feelings, but…something was happening.

            “You meant for Hikaru to learn some compassion on that date,” said Kyoya to Kaoru as they watched Hikaru and Tamaki with Haruhi. “Did you think about the possibility that he might fall in love.”

            “Oh, that,” said Kaoru. “That won’t happen yet. After all, Hikaru is still an idiot.”

            “Like Tamaki,” said Kyoya, nodding.

            Like you and (Y/N), thought Kaoru, glancing at Kyoya as he gazed at (Y/N).

l

            “I shouldn’t have been so rude to you,” said Hikaru, not looking Arai in the eyes. He bowed. “I apologize.”

            Arai smiled. “Don’t worry. I understand.” His smile softened. “I’m glad Haruhi has friends who care about her.”

            Behind them, the group was enjoying a summer festival at Karuizawa. Hikaru and Arai looked over at where Haruhi was showing an excited Tamaki all the games. She glanced up and smiled.

            “We’re lucky to have her, I think,” said Hikaru, smiling slightly.

            “(Y/N), you’re here,” said Honey, grinning.

            “Sorry I was late. I wanted to check out some of the bookshops,” said (Y/N).

            Kyoya looked up and had to catch his breath for a moment. They wore a familiar denim jumpsuit.

            “That’s a nice outfit, senpai,” said Haruhi.

            “Thanks,” said (Y/N), smiling. “It was a gift.” They glanced at Kyoya and made eye-contact, smile softening. “I really like it.”

            “Haruhi, my net broke,” pouted Tamaki.

            Haruhi sighed. “I’ll show you again how to play.”

            (Y/N) chuckled and walked away to join Kyoya. “Thank you.” They had found the package waiting on their bed with a card reading, “I’m sorry” in familiar handwriting. “You didn’t have to buy it.”

            “You look happy,” said Kyoya. That was enough for him. “You deserve it.” They deserve the world.

            (Y/N) smiled. “As long as this isn’t a scam to get me to pay you back,” they chuckled.

            “You don’t have to pay me back,” said Kyoya. Their presence was enough.

            (Y/N)’s lips parted in surprise. Kyoya, not focusing on money? Inconceivable. Inconceivable but…flattering.

            “Haruhi, dance with me!” said Honey, grabbing Haruhi and pulling her over to wear music was playing.

            “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra was playing, and several couples were dancing. Honey was jumping around while holding Haruhi’s hands excitedly. Tamaki pouted at seeing her dance with someone else, but the twins grabbed Tamaki to dance with him. Mori hovered at the edge and just watched with a soft expression.

            “Well, for all the trouble this vacation has been,” said (Y/N), “At least we ended up having fun.”

            Kyoya paused and looked down at them. “Would you like to dance?”

            “I might go and join, yes,” said (Y/N).

            “I meant with me,” said Kyoya. He raised a hand.

            (Y/N) didn’t hesitate. They took it, and Kyoya led them to the dance floor. He put his other hand on their waist, and (Y/N) rested their second hand on his shoulder. To the music, they moved in tandem, and (Y/N) smiled at Kyoya. There was enough energy that they didn’t get caught just staring at one another, but it was hard to tear their eyes from one another. It was just so easy to be together.

            Kyoya’s mind kept flitting to their moment together at lunch, the quiet calm, the way their hand fit in his. Here they fit just as well, now in his arms. Kyoya didn’t want to let them go. He wanted to hold them forever. They trusted him. They cared for him beyond his money and status. They liked him for who he was and never judged. Kyoya loved them for it. Kyoya loved (Y/N).

            (Y/N) let Kyoya spin them and grinned. This was the perfect moment. Being with Kyoya was perfect. He cared about them and respected them. He saw their potential and never discouraged their efforts to build a better life for themself. He noticed the small things about them, what they liked and what they didn’t. And (Y/N) loved that about him. (Y/N) loved Kyoya.

Taglist:

@roo024

@jmclouds

@yappydoo

@ramblingsoftheill

@girgal73

@rockerica

@nosoyyo1213

@ritzes28

@grippledee-galaxy

@rory-cakes

@neenieweenie

@k03ume

@constellationguy

@paastaboi

@introvertathome

@chaseyui

@jexnight

@snowy-violet

@nanaloverz

[small-sinclair]

Little Lady

Rusty Nail x fem!reader

Haven’t wrote this guy before but I wanna try it :3. It’s based off this.

Contains: I’m going to have Rusty and the reader about the same age (Rusty: 26, reader: 23). In this au, he’s just starting to kill.

Tw: light stocking, mention of murder, blood

Tag: @sketchy-rosewitch, @fluffy-little-demon, @poir0t-houck, @waxxl0ver, @crumb @ninakuli, @whimsyvixen, @roadkillerx

Part 1

When he saw you, he knew he had to have you. He knew that you were meant for him, but he wasn’t a fool. You’re smart, a perfect college girl, while he’s just a low-end truck driver. You don’t want to be anywhere near a drifter, a man that leaves for a few days, leaving you all alone. You wore a cute dress with flowers on it while he wore greased clothes and bloody boots. But when he saw your smile and heard your laughter, something inside his heart skipped.

He drove his truck along the sidewalk and came close to you, but you didn’t seem to mind. You gave him a smile when he called out, “Hey, little lady! Could you direct me to a station?”

“Yeah,” you answer, pointing down the street from your college. “Keep heading down that way and you’ll be close to the interstate. There’s a Love’s there.”

He looked at the road then back at you. He took in the sweet scent of lemon and vanilla, and he felt like he was home. There was something so bright and beautiful about you… he just didn’t know what it was.

“Thank ya kindly, miss.” He rolled up his window and started his way down the road, but his eyes drifts to his side mirrors. He wants to remember you.

************

A week past before he drives by the college again, and he sees you walking back from class. He couldn’t believe you were there. It’s like you were waiting for him… but he wasn’t going to fool himself. He just couldn’t.

Still, Rusty pulls up close to the side and rolled down his window. He admired your soft lavender dress with birds on it. He doesn’t expect you to remember him, but it doesn’t hurt to try. “Hey, little lady!” He calls out, making you jolt.

When you looked up, your eyes lit up and friendly smile formed. “Hey, again!”

“Hate to bother you but,” Rusty looks at the road as he drives slowly next to you, “but do you know a good coffee place?”

You smile and point down the road again. He sees your little charm bracelet shining in the sunlight. “Yeah! Just before you hit the interstate, pass the Love’s, there’s a coffee shop with a green roof.”

“Not Starbucks, right?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No. It’s called Luda’s Place!” you look back at him. “Great lemon bread!”

He nods and looks up at the road then back at you. “Okay… thank you, miss!”

“Have a good one!” You called, waving. You watched has his rid jolted with more speed, and you had a smile on your face. You hold your books closer to your chest and smiled. It was nice seeing him again.

************

The next week that followed, he saw you again, but a storm was coming from the north. He knew he had to haul fast to beat it, but he couldn’t help but pull up next to you once more. His eyes wondered over you light pink dress with roses sowed neatly. Your hair was put up in a braided bun, and your smile was just as bright as it was before when you saw his truck.

He slowed and pulled next to you. “Hey, little lady,” he says from his truck.

You look up then forward again. “We have got to stop meeting like this.”

Rusty shrugs. “I do agree with you on that.” He puts out his cigarette in the ash tray. “Looks like rain.”

“Heard it’s a bad one,” you answer as you walked. “You’re not driving in that, are you?”

He shrugs as he looks in his mirror to see the dark clouds behind the truck. “Have to haul metal parts, darlin’.”

“But do you really?” You asked, lifting your brow. “I saw the radar, and it’s mostly red and purple.”

He scratched his chin in thought. “I guess you’re right.” He looks down. “You know a good place to sleep?”

“Yeah,” you pointed ahead. “Two streets up, turn left. Follow that road and it’ll take you to a motel.”

He tips his hat, but he thinks. “Do you need a lift?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No, I’m good, thank you!” You flash a smile. “Hope you drive safe!”

He rolls his window up before starting down the road again. This time, when you wave goodbye, he looks almost sad. Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be walking alone before a storm, but he didn’t want to push his luck farther in fear of freaking you out.

Besides, the whimper from the back of the van caught his attention. His eyes flicker in the mirror to see the man tied and gaged next to his whore of a wife. He smirks then hammers down. He couldn’t wait to play his game with them.

****************

It goes on like this for 2 months.

Every week, he passes by you, rolling his window down to call for you. You couldn’t help but smile at wave as he slows his semi down. Even if he has someone tied in the cab or a dead body to hide, he always made sure you never saw the blood on his hands or in the scruff of his chin. He learned that you were a fashion design major, so you wear the dresses you made. Not that he minds, of course. He also learned that your graduating soon, and it made him smile.

“Where you thinking’ of going?”

“Somewhere far from here,” you answered, looking up at him with a glimmer in your eyes. “I always wanted to travel.”

He hums as he drives slowly next to you. “I’ve been everywhere, and I’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful as you.”

You blush as you hide your face behind your sketch book. “Bet you say that to every girl.”

He shakes his head as he blew cigarette smoke away. “Nah, just you, little rabbit.” His eyes glanced behind him at the woman, who was tied and gaged, in the cab. She had tears fall from her eyes as the blood dried from her lips. “I best be on my way then.”

You look up at him then at the road. “Be here next week?”

“As always,” he promises. “You just be safe.”

“You, too!”

As he drives off, he makes a plan for himself. He knows what he has to do to get you to come with him.

[vettelinyourarea]

lavender haze - toto wolff

genre: fluff, slight angst(?)

word count: 1,061

inspired by lavender haze by taylor swift

warning: s-word, age-gap, english is not my first language

this is the first fict i've ever written

Meet me at midnight

Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don’t ever say too much

And don’t really read into

My melancholia

You have been seeing Toto for a couple of months now. Nothing official, just a little date here and there. One day though, when you and Toto went on a date in Monaco, you both were caught by a paparazzi and it’s messy from that point. 

Here you are, at 2:30 am, sitting in your bed, mentally debating whether to send the message you have typed to the man you have come to care deeply in such a short amount of time.

I don’t think I can handle this, Toto.

By 3:00 am, the man himself is standing at your door. You didn’t expect him to be awake when you send the message 30 minutes earlier. But here he is, hugging you in your bedroom. Holding you while you cried on his chest. 

You have come to realized how different your lives are. Him, being the team principal of a big Formula 1 team, he is used to the media and the press. He is used to all of the public attention. But you’re just a student. Taking your master’s degree, you are not used to the public attentions and the press. 

But he’s here, comforting you. He’s here, coming to your apartment at 3 am just because you texted him. He’s here, despite all of the crazy schedule he has tomorrow. And he’s here, hugging you, comforting you, whispering to you.

“You’re okay, love. I’m here, I will always be here with you.”

I’ve been under scrutiny

You handle it beautifully

All this shit is new to me

I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me

When you first agreed to go on a date with Toto, you knew your relationship would not be the easy one. Having a relationship with someone way older than you is not easy for anyone, let alone the fact that he is a popular Austrian billionaire that will always gather a lot of attention wherever he goes.

Slut, gold digger, you called it. You knew some people would call you those disgusting things the moment they caught glimpse of you two holding hands. But knowing the fact in advance doesn’t make it easier for you. But still, neither of you care about the public perceptions. Because you and Toto knew for a fact that your feelings for each other is real. Both of you have fall in too deep with each other. You both also knew for a fact that the relationship you both have currently would become official in no time. 

The hate, the criticism. Those things only make you fell deeper for the man who is currently sleeping besides you.

All they keep asking me

Is if I’m gonna be your bride

The only kinds of girl they see

Is a one night or a wife

I find it dizzying

They’re bringing up my history

But you aren’t even listening

Going out on a busy weekend night is definitely not your smartest decision. But do you care? Not really. You do get annoyed when paparazzi started to follow you and ask questions about your relationship with Toto. Even though the guy is not even with you at the moment. You would have no problem to talk about the man you have grown to love, but not with them. Not in the situation like now.

You and Toto have officially been in a relationship for 6 months now and the press knew it already. But all they keep asking you is when are you and Toto going to get married. As if marriage is the only kind of romantic relationship. Of course, you grew tired of it, but you held on, not telling Toto about how uncomfortable you are.

But when the press starts to bring up your past relationships, all hell break loose. Toto was the first one to found out about the articles. No, he is not mad at you, of course. “I’m not mad at you, love. Why would I be mad at you because of your past? You are mine and I am yours now,” he said when you asked him.

And that is the truth. He is mad, no scratch that, he is furious at the media because why would they dig deep into your past life? You are not a public figure. You are in the public light because you love him. “I’m sorry that you have to go through these because of me,” he said one night while holding you. “Why would you apologize? I chose to love you first,” you had answered. And he kissed you softly as a reply, and you feel one single tear from his eyes, drop on your cheek. 

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love go spiral

You and Toto were having dinner at his house when he first asked your permission to talk about your relationship publicly. People knew about your relationship, of course, but neither of you have ever talked about it to the public. It was one year after your relationship become official. With his age, you knew your relationship with him would get serious very quickly. 

You also don’t care if your relationship become public or stay private, really. You just want to love him and be loved by him. And you already knew how in love he is with you, even without announcing it to the world. You don’t care about what the public thinks of your relationship. With that being said, of course you let him to talk about it.

So, on the next day when he has an interview, he openly talks about your relationship for the first time.

“Yeah, she’s everything I need and she’s the one who keeps me sane in this crazy world.”

That lavender haze

I just wanna stay

I just wanna stay

In that lavender haze

You are sitting with Toto in your shared house. After 4 years of dating and 2 years of marriage, he somehow still managed to give you butterfly. After all those years together, he somehow still managed to take your breath away when you looked at him. Even after all those hard years together with him, you both are still in that lavender haze.

[starsstuddedsky]

Slice of Love

Haechan x reader

summary: birthday cake and boyfriend material

genre: fluff, non idol au, not really angst but haechan is so dramatic

warnings: swearing, food/dessert, i dont know anything about art, pls lmk if i missed any

wc: 1.8k (who is she???)

a/n: finally wrote something short and sweet :) it's been so long since i've done that lol. this is heavily inspired by 7dream cafe cake-making and my full belief that none of these boys should be unsupervised in the kitchen. thank you to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta as always <3 (even though you didnt edit anything smh)

It’s not horrendous.

Donghyuck stares at the cake in front of him. The process started well: he made the tester cake last week week that the council (also known as his friends) approved with generous support (“wait, what’s actually kind of good,” from Jeno, “it’s edible,” from Renjun, “the hint of orange really sells it,” from Jaemin, “it’s not burnt so it’s already better than anything I could make,” from Mark, “you didn’t buy this?” from Chenle, and Jisung, who just stared at him with wide eyes). 

No, the problem isn’t the batter. He slaved over it all last night and chose the two cakes that rose most evenly in the oven. Everything but his tears went into making them. 

“Wow,” Renjun says, leaning over the counter. “You fucked up.” 

Donghyuck smacks him, leaving a trail of lavender buttercream on the wool sweater. 

“Hey, that’s going to be a bitch to get out!” Renjun cries. 

“Cry me a river,” Donghyuck says, “which is a good song, but also, you deserve it. It’s not that bad.” 

Renjun raises his eyebrows but Donghyuck raises a spoonful of extra frosting. Renjun backs off. 

Despite his strong defense, Donghyuck fears Renjun may be right. Though the cake stands tall, crumbs mix in with the frosting on the sides. What was supposed to be an artistically plump edging around the base of the cake and around the top corner looks like it exploded out of the piping bag (because it did, popping the cap off several times). In his head, the center would be filled with flowers and hearts and all sorts of pretty shapes in all sorts of pastel colors—but by the time he got to the center, he’d fully given up on piping bags, meaning he had to get creative for the flowers. Instead of flowers, he made blobs of frosting pushed off a spoon. In some spots he accidentally mixed the colors together, a green one shade away from brown, not at all like the field in the pictures on his Pinterest board. 

Jeno appears next, wandering out of his room. He misses Renjun’s warning glare, though Donghyuck doesn’t. He steps right next to Donghyuck, tilting his head. “What is this supposed to be again?” 

“What do you think?” Donghyuck asks evenly. 

Oblivious or uncaring, Jeno pauses to ponder. “A really ugly version of Shrek’s swamp?” 

“Get out.” 

“Get out of ma’ swamp!” Jeno attempts a Scottish accent, authenticity as questionable as the flower field in Donghyuck’s cake. Jeno retreats with Renjun on the couch, dodging Donghyuck’s frosting spoon. It would be a waste of the delicacy on his stupid dri-fit t-shirt, which he wears even when he doesn’t work out. 

“It’ll be fine,” Jaemin says. “It’ll taste good, which is the important part.” He sits at the counter, the only one to offer moral support while Donghyuck decorated. But his attempts at comfort are in vain; Donghyuck doesn’t just want the cake to taste good, he wants it to taste perfect, to look perfect, for all of it to be perfect. It’s the least you deserve. 

Donghyuck ignores the banging on his door, letting one of the guys let Chenle and Jisung in (no one else would threaten to break down a metal door instead of waiting the five seconds it takes to unlock the door). 

“We come bearing food!” Chenle shouts, plastic bag singing in his hand as Jisung follows precariously carrying a stack of pizza boxes. Far more food than needed, but Donghyuck won’t skimp out on you. Chenle tosses his bag full of snacks on the table, crossing the room to see the ‘masterpiece’ Donghyuck spent the past week hyping up. 

“Dude, are you seriously going to give that to YN?” 

“Are you trying to get dumped?” Jisung asks. “Ow!” he cries when Chenle smacks him. 

“Your welcome,” he says, “though he sort of has a point, that looks like literal shit.” 

“Does it really?” Donghyuck pouts. 

Chenle points at one of the browner spots. “You’re telling me that’s not a piece of shit?” 

“They were supposed to be flowers.” 

Jaemin, Renjun, and Jisung manage to cover their laughs as coughs but Chenle and Jeno let out a bark of laughter. 

“Yeah, you’re screwed,” Chenle says, clapping him on his shoulder that sags even lower than his normal bad posture. “You could call Mark and get him to pick up a cake on his way.” 

“He’s bringing YN,” Donghyuck says glumly. “Besides, I already told YN that I would make it myself. I’m not going to be a failure and a liar.” 

“It’s really not that bad,” Jaemin says, ignoring the chorus of dissent from the rest of the guys. “It’ll taste good!” 

Donghyuck shrugs. He can’t explain it, at least not so that they can understand him. He knows perfection is a subjective definition that he’ll never be able to fulfill but he strives for it anyway. If it isn’t perfect then why would he do it at all? Even if it’s his first time attempting this level of artwork, he should at least be able to make something that looks okay, or recognizable. 

And you—you deserve more than a dry store-bought mess and more than a half-assed attempt at love. You’ve only been together for a couple months but he’s determined to prove himself. A birthday was the perfect opportunity, even when you’ve known him for years and spent plenty of birthdays with him. This was his chance to show you the boyfriend material he’s made of, except instead of black velvet or creamy silk, Donghyuck thinks this cake is the work of a neon yellow polyester shirt worth less than $2 at the thrift store. 

“Mark just texted that he just parked,” Jaemin announces. He glances at Donghyuck. “You ready?” 

Donghyuck glances at himself. His hands are covered in frosting that’s dried and crusted, spread up his arms. His Kiss the Chef apron protected his shirt and most of his pants from the damage, but the mess is the least of his concerns. There’s nothing he can do about the disaster (he’s given up calling it anything else) in front of him. Shrek’s Swamp or a toilet bowl, it’s definitely not a flower field and it’s definitely not what you deserve. But it’s all he’s got. 

The final punch hits with a gentle knock at the door. Donghyuck crosses the room to his doom, stepping past his silent friends who bow their heads in respect for the walking dead. He pulls open the door slowly. He sees your shoes first, white sneakers you spent three hours with a Sharpie decorating, full of hearts and stars and unmistakable flowers—daisies and chrysanthemums and lavender, more than he can name. 

You wear your favorite jeans, loose bootcut that tighten at the thighs, hugging you in all the right places. A loose shirt hangs from your shoulders, one of the bands you always play for him with lots of bass and visceral lyrics that romanticize suffering. A family of silver earrings dangle from your ears, and he recognizes each of your favorites, the miniature swords, sparkling star shaped studs, a curly twist of metal that wraps around the higher part of ear. You look perfect. 

Donghyuck has always loved the way you smile, a gentle turn of your lips, like the happiness belongs to only you. You lean forward, pressing a short kiss to his lips, a peck more than anything. Donghyuck stares at you, eyes wide. You gesture to his apron. “Just following the rules.” 

He smiles though it fades as soon as he sees the frosting–no, the evidence of his failures, spread down the black fabric. “Happy birthday,” he says, wishing he could put more heart into it. A tiny frown furrows in your brow but you don’t question him. 

He steps back to let you walk in, trailing behind you as the rest of the guys wish you happy birthday. Mark catches up easily, clapping a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Jeno sent me a picture.” 

Renjun hugs you, which Donghyuck belatedly realizes he never did. 

“I brought the food,” Chenle announces. “Don’t go thanking anyone else for my efforts.” 

“Our,” Jisung corrects. “You barely even carried anything.” 

“That’s because I had to drive,” Chenle says, waving his hand. “And don’t even get me started on the pizzeria, you better appreciate every molecule because—”

“Thank you, Chenle,” you say. 

“Thank me,” Donghyuck says. “It was my detailed instructions that perfected absolutely everything about today, which reminds me, did Mark behave?” 

You turn back to face him, linking your fingers with his. “Yes, babe, he followed your script. He almost cried because the barista messed up the order and he didn’t want to be annoying but he said you said ‘if anything goes wrong, I’ll kill you,’ and meant it.” 

“And I did,” Donghyuck says. He nods at his best friend for his service. 

“Now.” You squeeze his fingertips. “Where’s this cake you’ve been so excited about.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t try to hide his face. There’s no use delaying the inevitable. He lets go of your hands, leading you to the crime scene to lay the final verdict (the judicial system of his brain is in need of some reformation). 

You reach the counter and freeze. A list of concert dates greets Donghyuck, your back facing him while you study the cake. There’s no name for the opposite of a masterpiece, no artist that wants their worst creation recorded in history. 

He inches closer to you, peeking at your face. He recognizes the expression, the narrowing of your eyes, the way you flatten your lips. He’s been to enough art shows and spent enough time with you studying for art history to know what you analyze art. 

“It’s not Van Gogh or Monet,” he says, “it’s not even that asshole guy who made the Bean.” 

“Mm,” you hum, “no, you’re not any of them.” 

“It’s an ugly cake,” he says, “I know. I tried, I really did, but apparently you actually do need a decade or two of experience to make a decent cake, which is totally unfair, like, I spent more time on it than my research project, and this only looks marginally better than that.” 

“It’s amazing,” you say, “reminiscent of the expressionist era.” 

“Really?” 

“No,” you say, turning to grin at him. “But you made it, so none of that matters. Maybe it doesn’t look like what you thought, but seriously.”  You rest a hand on his arm. “It’s perfect.” 

He meets your eyes, sees sincerity and not an ounce of teasing. No, it wasn’t what he wanted for you, but that doesn’t really matter. Perfection is subjective and to you it’s perfect—why did he ever think it wouldn’t be? 

He grins. “Perfect?” 

You step closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a hug, ignoring the frosting that must be smearing across the band member’s faces. 

“Perfect.” 

a/n2: thank you for reading! as always, i appreciate any feedback :)

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 20 - Lavender 3

So. I know in my vote post. I mentioned that it probably won't have any Mihawk/Shanks. HOWEVER! My ass went and had to read some MiShanks stuff and now I can't get them out of my head. But I also do not want to leave Peppermint Tea behind because I love my little islander and her snowy devil fruit.

Anyways! I hope you enjoy the direction that I've chosen to go! I promise this will have a happy ending!

Warnings! Drinking! Shanks and Mihawk are mean and their past is peeked into!

Masterlist

A week is all it takes for Mihawk to track Shanks and his crew down. He finds the redhead in the cove of a chain of merchant islands near Sabaody and flairs his haki to get the Emperor’s attention. Shanks jerked his head up from where he’d been dozing in the mid-day sun. He rubs the crust from his eyes and gives the warlord a wide smile in greeting as he approaches.

“Hey, you! Just the guy I wanted to talk to,” Shanks smirks at his old friend, and he pushes himself up, leaning heavily on the tree he’d been dozing under. The warlord looks immaculate as usual, and Shanks doesn’t hide the way he casts his eyes over his bare chest.

Mihawk comes to a stop a foot away from the other man, far closer than he would usually deem to get nowadays. Dracule narrows his eyes at the other man, mood already soured.

“If you weren’t such a drunk buffoon, I would suggest a duel, if only so I could kick your ass,” Drcaule sneers at the redhead. The Emporer looks tired and hungover, not an unusual sight, though at least Shanks seemed sober enough to pay attention. It’s more of a struggle than it should be for him to keep his stance relaxed and nonchalant. Shanks knew more than anyone on the Grand Line how to push Mihawk’s buttons.

“Ohh, now you want to fight? You know I’d win, right?” Shanks sways straight, feet planted as his hand lands on the hilt of Griffon. The tension in the air skyrockets, getting the attention of the rest of the crew that lazes around.

The two of them had not fought since Shanks lost his arm, so having the Hawk's attention on him was riveting. He grins at Dracule, his own haki flaring in response to Mihawk's that is still raging at the redhead.

Beckman takes one look at the two men and rounds everyone up, directing them back to the Red Force. Who knew what was about to happen, and the first mate would rather not have any possible casualties if Mihawk and Shanks decided to actually duke it out.

Mihawk takes a half step forward, not backing down from the challenge that Shanks presents.

“I would like to see you try,” He sneers. Lip curling as he looks down his nose at the bum. The only thing that is keeping him from making mince meat of the younger man is a tiny voice in the back of his mind that sounds oddly like you, telling him how bad of an idea it would be to cause a scene. His snow angel surely wouldn’t be happy with him.

The two powerful men eye each other for a while, ready for the other to make the first move. Shanks sighs and removes his hand from his sword, shifting to gesture at the port town down the beach.

“How about we act like adults and go have a drink? My treat?” Shanks suggests, and Dracule huffs at him but dips his head in agreement. He follows Shanks back into town and to the first bar they come across. They order, and Dracule picks a table in the back, away from the rest of the patrons. Shanks pays like he agrees, and Mihawk takes that as a win.

“This is about that treasure, huh?” Shanks starts after taking a deep pull of his ale, “I just want to go ahead and let you know that you can’t make me stay away. She said that we’re more than welcome to come by her island.”

Dracule could strangle the smug prick across from him. Shanks speaks nothing but the truth, but Mihawk can’t help but bare his teeth in a silent snarl at the redhead’s self-satisfied tone, acting like he had already won whatever argument that had yet to be had. He hadn’t expected Shanks to bestow you with such a familiar nickname, and the older man doesn’t know how he feels about it right now.

“I’m not here to warn you to stay away from the island, Shanks,” Mihawk clears his expression back to one of uninterest and shelves the earlier thought for later. The Emperor can see the displeasure lurking in Dracule’s ringed eyes despite his best efforts, “I’m here to tell you to stay away from,_.”

“I found her first, she is mine, and I am not going to let you of all people ruin the relationship I have with them,” Dracule continues, tone deadly and not booking any kind of room for argument. He sips his wine, finding it subpar, “That girl is worth more to me than any treasure in this miserable world.”

Shanks watches his old friend. He commends the usually monotone man for speaking about his feelings, but the redhead has a stubborn streak bigger than an island, “We’re pirates, Hawkeye. I don’t think I should have to remind you what we do with treasure.”

He lets the threat linger in the air, the tension borderline suffocating, before Shanks breaks it by sipping from his mug once more, “Anyone else I wouldn’t have any kind of reservations about taking what I want, but we’ve been rivals for a long time, and we’ve known each other for even longer Mihawk. What’s one more thing for us to scuffle over?”

“_ is not some kind of prize to be won,” Dracule grumbles, anger leaking over as his hand tightens around his glass. He must consciously think about loosening his grip, or else he would have sent wine and glass exploding everywhere, “And if she were, I have already won.”

Shanks purses his lips and sits back in his seat, amused at having gotten such a rise out of Hawkeye. He wasn’t about to give up, though, but also wouldn’t go behind the warlord’s back. He had too much respect for the other man. He sips his ale and then sets the tankard away.

“You can't be there all the time, Mihawk,” Shanks points out quietly, and his tone has shifted, more to one of careful understanding, “Your duties as a warlord pull you away from her, don't they? Leaving her vulnerable and alone for longer stretches of time than you like.”

Dracule says nothing even as Shanks lays his greatest fears on the table for all to see. The redhead isn't wrong, and just admitting that rankles the warlord in the worst of ways. However, Mihawk wasn't above putting your safety above everything else in his life. There would only be so much he and perhaps Perona could do if Big Mom somehow found out that you still lived.

“Do you know who she is? Her connections?” Mihawks asks the redhead and gets his answer when a dark expression crosses Shanks’ face, “And my involvement?”

“I knew the moment she introduced herself. Is that your reason for wanting her, Mihawk? Are you trying to atone for your sins?” Shanks sends the other man a mean grin, and Dracule matches the look with a glare of his own. Shanks can remember the day of your island's destruction and can remember the disappointment he felt when he found out that Dracule had left to help Big Mom. It's mean, and he feels guilty for bringing it up, but Shanks invested himself into your happiness the moment you told him that he and his crew were welcome back to your island.

“I don't have to explain my actions to you,” Mihawk sets his empty glass away, leaning back in his seat to cross his arms over his chest, “Besides, you have no right to judge any of what I do.”

Shanks is an emperor for a reason. He answered to no one, and while he wasn't a monster like Kaido or Big Mom, the redhead had skeletons in his closet like everyone else. He raises his hand in surrender, reluctantly agreeing with Dracule on the subject.

“Does she know about it?” Shanks pressed, and his brows shot up in surprise when the warlord sniffed and looked away from him. Shanks narrows his eyes, disbelief thick in his tone, “You really haven't told her?”

“No, and I have no plans of doing so, either. Why should I bring up painful memories when she doesn't even remember what happened to her?” Dracule draws and crosses his legs like he has done no wrong in the world, “It's best that she never finds out.”

“Oh, that way she can't get upset with you and tell you to leave,” Shanks summarizes and nods like it makes all the sense in the world, but Mihawk can see the tension in his smile and the sarcastic way he slaps his knee, “Smart man, Mihawk, keeping that away from someone you love.”

“I do not love her. She interests me, and we have a mutually beneficial relationship,” Mihawk snaps at the redhead. Panic had swept through him the second Shanks had dropped the L word. Dracule Mihawk loved nothing in this world. He only invested his time into interesting subjects, and you were the most mysterious by far.

Shanks snorts in amusement, eyes rolling skyward at how stubborn his old friend was. This song and dance were familiar, one that Shanks had the displeasure of knowing intimately. The Emperor can't keep the bitter tone out of his voice when he next speaks. Shanks can't help but want to be mean right now.

“Of course you don't,” He hums and sweeps his hand through his hair, leaving the red strands tussled, “Then you shouldn't have any problem with me wanting her, then, right? Since she just interests you.”

An image of Shanks and his angel curled up together in front of the fireplace in his home, you leaning into the bare chest of the redhead as he helps you sip from a shallow bowl of sake. He sees you pulling Shanks in for a kiss, a sweet one full of yearning.

The imagery has Dracule seething with a feeling he hasn't felt in longer than he would care to remember, though any normal person would call it jealousy. He sucks in a sharp breath and shuts his eyes, fighting to control his breathing and his growing annoyance. This insolence that Shanks wears like a second skin has always been able to set Mihawk off. How he once called this man more than a friend, Dracule didn't know.

Shanks smirks, self-satisfied at seeing the other man break even further at his scathing remarks. He thinks that Mihawk deserves it. He also thinks that the other man is a big idiot for not telling you about your past. That information belonged to you. You deserved to know about it.

“You will not touch her, Shanks,” Mihawk repeated, tone laced with finality. He was done with this sham of a conversation. He should have known that Shanks would push on this. The Emperor matched his own stubbornness.

“I won't do anything that _ doesn't want,” Shanks snapped right back, dark eyes narrowed on the other man. Dracule wasn't the only one tired of this back-and-forth. He softened after half a second, shoulders relaxing as he leaned forward and rested his upper body on the table between them.

“I'm not trying to take her away from you, Dracule. I want to help you keep her safe, but I'm not doing it for free,” Shanks murmurs, and Mihawk sighs heavily when he feels defeat creeping in. He does not want to admit that Shanks makes nothing but good points. Mihawk may not trust the other pirate, not any longer, but it could have been someone far more ill-mannered than the laid-back Emperor.

“I want you to tell me when you will visit her island. I want your word that this is for her, Shanks. That you are not just doing this to spite me. That you aren’t going to run away from her like you’re known to do” Mihawk demands, and leans forward, voice dropping and becoming deadly, “Swear it to me.”

The warlord is bringing up the past. A gamble, but it gets the younger man’s attention, and Dracule feels a dark satisfaction rip through him when Shanks sits up straight and looks at him in surprise, though hurt swims in his dark eyes.

Mihawk knows how much he is giving in and giving up with this, but your happiness and your safety mean more to him than little else. He would have to contend with Shanks for your attention, and he despises the hurt and anxiety that curdled in his stomach at the thought of you leaving him for the redhead. Shanks was nothing but selfish, a problem that Mihawk knew too well. Dracule didn’t want to have to share you with the other man, but this wasn’t about him. If you wanted Shanks around, then the warlord would not keep him away.

Shanks meets his golden gaze, any trace of humor or teasing attitude gone from his expression, and he offers Dracule his hand. He thinks back to a time before none of this would ever be necessary, a time when he and Mihawk trusted one another explicitly, and the Emperor dearly wishes for that closeness. Shanks wonders if the older man ever wants the same, “I swear that this is for _.”

Dracule eyes the hand that is placed in front of him. An old tension had settled in the back of his mind, one that Mihawk hadn’t felt in well over twenty years when the two of them had been far closer. He feels that tension shimmer between them, and Shanks’ hand is familiar and warm when Mihawk finally takes it.

Shanks curls his hand tight around his old friends, holding on far longer than necessary just to feel the heat of Mihawk’s palm against his own. He grins when he catches sight of the dusting of red on the Hawk’s cheeks when he extracts his hand. While there is still much to hash out between the two of them, the air has settled, and their haki smooths along one another as if greeting an old friend. Shanks leans forward, eyes mischievous, “Let’s have another drink, Hawkeye. My treat.”

Dracule hears that little voice in his head again, though this time it matches the troublesome tone that lingers in Shanks’ voice, but Mihawk finds himself listening to it once again as he leans back in the creaky bench and crosses his legs.

“Get me something better this time.”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax

[yourlovelywriter]

Bound by violet

Okay have mercy guys, I’ve never done this before….. so I hope it’s good….

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the scent of lavender and something sharp, like ozone. Your head pounded, and your arms felt heavy. It took you a moment to realize why: you were bound—not with rope, but with shimmering violet threads of energy that pulsed faintly against your skin.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

The voice made you jolt, though you couldn’t turn your head to see. A familiar one—too familiar. Then she appeared, stepping into view with a predatory smirk.

Agatha Harkness. Or “Agnes,” as you had thought of her until now.

“What… what is this?” Your voice was hoarse, your pulse hammering as you tugged against the magical restraints.

Agatha tilted her head, studying you with an amused expression. “What does it look like, darling? I’ve brought you somewhere safe.”

“Safe?” you spat, glaring. “This doesn’t look safe to me, Agatha. It looks insane!”

Her smirk faded, replaced by a glimmer of something softer. “I’m not insane. I’m protective. There’s a difference.”

You struggled harder, ignoring the way the magic tightened with each movement. “This isn’t protection! This is—this is kidnapping!”

Agatha sighed, brushing a hand through her hair. “You’re so dramatic. I saved you, sweetheart. That ridiculous hex? Wanda’s magic running wild? It’s dangerous, and you don’t even know it. You should be thanking me.”

“Oh, thank you for tying me up and dragging me into your creepy dungeon!” you snapped. “How could I possibly repay you?”

Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but her eyes remained sharp. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll come up with something.”

——————————

Hours passed—or at least, it felt that way. Agatha sat across from you in a plush armchair, sipping a glass of wine like this was the most natural thing in the world.

“You can’t just keep me here forever,” you said finally, breaking the silence.

She raised an eyebrow. “Can’t I?”

“No! People will notice I’m gone. They’ll come looking for me.”

Agatha chuckled, swirling her wine. “Oh, darling. You’re in Westview. Nobody notices anything they’re not supposed to. And even if they did, who do you think they’d believe? Me, the charming, helpful neighbor? Or you, the person who’s suddenly vanished into thin air?”

Her words sent a chill down your spine. “Why are you doing this?” you asked quietly. “What do you want from me?”

Agatha set her glass down, leaning forward with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I want you.”

Your heart raced, but you forced yourself to meet her gaze. “Why? What did I do to deserve… this?”

“You existed,” she said simply. “You existed in a world full of noise, and somehow, you were the only thing I could hear. The only thing that mattered.”

You stared at her, stunned into silence. Agatha’s expression softened, her usual smugness replaced by something raw and unguarded.

“I’ve lived a long, long time,” she continued. “I’ve seen empires rise and fall. I’ve wielded powers you can’t even begin to comprehend. And yet, none of it ever felt real. None of it ever… touched me. Until you.”

Her confession left you reeling. “So your solution was to kidnap me?”

Agatha rolled her eyes, her smirk returning. “Oh, don’t act like I’ve locked you in a dungeon. You’ve got food, books, a comfortable room. I’m not a monster.”

“You’re acting like one.”

Her expression darkened, and for a moment, you thought you’d gone too far. But then she laughed—a low, humorless sound.

“You think I don’t know that?” she said, standing. “You think I don’t look at you and wonder what’s wrong with me? Why I can’t just let you go?”

“Then let me go,” you urged, your voice softer now. “If you care about me, Agatha, let me go.”

She stared at you for a long moment, her jaw tight. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t trust the world to keep you safe. And…” Her voice faltered, just for a moment. “Because I don’t trust myself to survive without you.”

————————

The days that followed were strange. Agatha didn’t keep you tied up after that first night, though the magical barrier around the house ensured you couldn’t leave. She tried to make your captivity as comfortable as possible—bringing you meals, sitting with you to talk, even laughing at your sarcastic barbs.

One evening, as you sat across from her at the dinner table, you asked, “What’s your endgame here? Do you expect me to just… fall in love with you?”

Agatha leaned back in her chair, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Would that be so terrible?”

You glared at her. “Yes. Yes, it would.”

Her smirk faltered, and for a moment, she looked almost… hurt.

“Look,” you said, softening slightly. “I get that you’ve been through a lot. And maybe you think this is the only way to protect me, or whatever. But you can’t force someone to stay with you. That’s not love, Agatha. That’s control.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You think I don’t know the difference?”

“I think you’re scared to find out,” you said, surprising even yourself with your boldness.

Agatha didn’t respond right away. She looked down at her hands, her expression unreadable.

“Maybe I am,” she said finally. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

For the first time, you saw her not as the powerful, conniving witch, but as a woman who had been alone for far too long.

And despite everything, a part of you began to wonder if there was more to her than her obsession.

Well….. what do we think.. hope this does well

[eljeebee]

Sisterly Quarrel

Lady Lenora never hibernated; she stayed up the whole night reading The Green Lady’s Tome.

Among the anecdotes found in the book, there was an entry about Ambrosia. Lenora hummed. She decided to bathe first before preparing for this week’s task.

Later that morning, Lenora made French toast, with the syrup made from the plasma fruit they have.

“Nora!” Percival came in the kitchen, “I finished tending to the trees – is that for me?!”

Lenora let out a chuckle. “Yes, little one.”

“How is it, Percy?” Lenora asked once they sat down. It’s always like this, she and Percival would sit down for “breakfast”. Lady Lana and Valentina once participated in this routine the two had, but since they had withered stomachs, they stopped. They just let them be.

“Tastes like the blood of my last hook up,” Percy chuckled.

Lenora hissed lowly, “What did I tell you about biting while doing sexual activities?”

Percy waved his hand, never feeling afraid of Lenora’s hiss. He knew it was just a warning, not a threat. “Relax, I kept her mouth covered!”

“Good grief.”

When the mail came in, Lenora read it while walking to their kitchen.

It says,

Another week, another newsletter! This week, it’s time to catch the first ingredient, an Angelfish! Ambrosia is a gourmet dish, so it’s time to brush up that skill! Make sure your garden is blossoming, Ambrosia requires a Death flower, so for this week, you will also need to graft an orchid and pomegranate plant. Thank you for subscribing to the Ambrosia Society Newsletter.

“Angelfish?” Lenora smiled, “I have that already.”

But when Lenora opened their freezer, there was no angelfish on sight. Lana…Lenora frowned.

While Valentina and Lana were discussing business, Lenora pulled Percy outside.

“I know you have a contact with the Straud’s agent witch, can you ask her a favor? I’ll give anything she might want; tell her to go to the Caster’s Alley and see if she could buy an angelfish,” Lenora said, her brows almost pinching.

“Why? I thought we caught those already?” Percy asked, confused.

“My sister, I assume,” Lenora almost hissed, “had thrown those out. Follow my instructions. I’ll tell them we’ll go out fishing, once we’re out of Fashion District, you give the witch a visit, and meet me at the meadows.”

Percy nodded, “Got it.”

Percy rang the bell, waited, pressed the doorbell again, waited, then banged on the door.

“WHAT DO YOU – O-Oh,” Lavender Lee took a step back. “It’s you. Percival Asvang.”

“Glad you still remember me, pretty doll! How was your trip? Did you have fun?” Percy beamed at her.

“It was quite an experience. Is there something you need?” Lavender asked, trying to feel for her doorknob.

Percy noticed this and cornered her to the railing. “Relax, doll. I just need to ask a favor. As much as I want to stay here and get to know you better, I got pressing…matters. You’re a spellcaster right?”

“How do you – ”

“Doesn’t matter! So, I know you guys have a realm, and Nora, err, my cousin, wants to get an angelfish. She says you can get them easily in some…alley there. Can you do that for me, doll? As a favor? Whatever you want, I can give you. Even a kiss.” Percy winked.

“W-Woah there, Mr. Asvang,” Lavender awkwardly chuckled. “Do you only need an angelfish?”

Percy nodded.

“Okay, I’ll get it – ”

“Great!” Percy grinned. He whipped out his phone, motioning her to give hers. She did, and he typed his number. “Text me or call me. Or if you’re able to, meet me at San Myshuno Meadows.”

Lavender nodded, taking back her phone. Percy pats her head, “See ya ‘round, doll.”

And he left, with a confused and abashed Lavender.

Luckily for the two of them, Lenora immediately caught one, so they were able to return home early. She hid the angelfish below the numerous plasma packs and frozen plasma extracts in their freezer, mentally taking notes to talk to her sister later.

Percy sat on the barstool reading a text from Lavender. “Lavender says she wasn’t able to buy one.”

“That’s okay,” Lenora said as she prepared a gourmet dish. “Please relay my gratitude. Tell her if she needs anything, she need only to ask me.”

Percy hummed, typing on his phone.

Lana hummed as she started her nightly skincare routine. Honestly, if you ask Lenora, it’s just sticking a face mask soaked in plasma fruit essence. She doesn’t know why her sister had to do this thing, given that they’re beautiful already – they’re the beautiful, enchanting Beau sisters for Watcher’s sake!

That’s not why Lenora is here, however…

“Sister!” Lana turned to her smiling. She approached her. “Are you finally thinking of trying the face mask?”

“No,” Lenora watched her. She frowned. Hissing, “Why did you throw the fish Percy and I caught a week ago?”

Her sister was taken aback with her demeanor. “But Nora, it’s just fish. You look angry. Are you angry? At me?”

Nora rubbed her temple. “Lana, I never stick my nose to your business, why must you be to me? You encourage me to do things that I want, so I agreed to be your curator for Gertrude’s; I cook, and you don’t try it, but did I complain? Even if I do want you to try them? I try to keep planting at minimum because I know that you’ll give me an earful. I picked up fishing and you complain, and that activity doesn’t even involve this house!”

“I…” Lana looked away. “I didn’t even know…It smells unpleasant, okay? I was thinking it’d affect the plasma packs so, I threw it away. We can get it again; we can arrange a fishing tri – ”

Lenora groaned, “You’re complaining again, Lana. Forget this, I’m retiring to my room!”

At least it wasn’t because her sister was starting to suspect her activities…

Lenora sighed. This is the first time she’d felt full and trembling with emotions. She felt angry, she felt crossed, mad, she felt like she wanted to drag her sister and throw her against that skyscraper. She shook her head.

Maybe hibernation would do her good tonight.

[teriwrites]

The Fatal Choice: Part 4

My Live Reactions to Reading Through My 2013 Novel

Area man shocked that entire city isn’t overrun by horrible, upper class shitheads actively collaborating to oppress their citizens and, in fact, is mostly made up of everyday citizens

So much disdain for alcohol

I can’t tell if this poverty being equated with morality is a character bias that’ll be rectified with time or literally 15-year-old me being ignorant

I’m gonna say a mix of both, but pretty cringe either way

Delroy just ordered straight rum from the bar

In a glass

The man supposedly doesn’t drink

This will have zero consequences

Ironically enough, rum is now my go-to spirit (but I’m more of a cocktail girly)

Anyways he’s seeking information from a guy in a seedy bar, ofc

YEEEEEES MY GIRL’S HERE

‘After helping Delroy brush some of the dirt off of his coat, the woman stuck her hand out. “I am Adriana Estep, aromatherapist in these parts. I can’t imagine somebody looking as dignified as you coming here very often. You must be quite desperate.” looooooove her

Delroy is lucky she’s so good, he’s the most gullible SOB I’ve ever written

‘Darkness overpowered everything, and it cast the poorer side of the city in shadow. The only dim light that the city received was the moonlight, which wasn’t enough to overpower the ceaseless darkness.’ I think it might be nighttime, you guys!

Delroy is just like me, fr, cannot handle strong smells, I also have to avoid visibly recoiling whenever I enter a perfume/incense/candle/scent-based store

“I have very close friends that were thrown into the dungeons. I need to know where they’re being held and if there’s any way I could break them out.” “Now you’re talking,” Adriana grinned. (I’m telling you, she’s the best)

AND she’s literate, what a badass

“If I want to try and get a job as a guard, then I’ll have to know what time slots are available. Later, I can say that I found myself another job and being a guard with my back up, so I don’t need it after all.” “Genius,” Adriana smiled, and then walked across the room to grab something. When she returned, she had a paper in her hands. “There’s only one thing. I already have a schedule of their work.” (I should’ve written this book about her)

‘Suddenly, she returned and handed him an incense burner. It smelled of Lavender, and Delroy couldn’t help, but feel a little less depressed after smelling it.’ I don’t think I knew how aromatherapy worked

Adriana stop flirting with the man, he’s ace and you’re a lesbian

(I’m not sure either of those were true in this draft but I’m Confident they were not meant to wind up together in any capacity, she's just sorta playful like that)

‘The bed that Delroy had the privilege of using was almost too comfortable.’ this is the second time I wrote about bedding being too comfortable, which I would’ve dealt with at the time, as I had to sleep with a resin back brace in high school and whenever I slept without it, I felt like the soft mattress was gonna suffocate me

People conveniently discussing current events downstairs in the inn the following morning to let Delroy know what his timeline is

‘Delroy couldn’t imagine how people could celebrate the deaths of others, criminals or not.’ we’re not supporters of capital punishment in this house

He just got struck with like a weirdly overpowering muscle spasm in his arm, and I'm really struggling to remember if this has literally any relevance or if it happened ~just because~

“I’ll get you back, my brothers,” Delroy vowed, and he clenched his fist, forcing his arm to stop twitching. “I don’t know how far I must go, or how much time it will take, but I will get you back.” my guy, you know exactly how long you have (roughly a week), and exactly where you need to go to do it (the jail, obviously) but the sentiment is there, at least

Ending Thoughts:

Delroy can leave now actually, the main-est of characters has arrived! Adriana was a longtime favorite character that I wrote, and I'm really hoping that I wrote more about her in this draft because to this day I still have a bunch of her lore circling through my mind. Arguably, she was the first to fit into an archetype I still often find in my writing: capable, fiercely independent (often to a fault, which requires addressing during their personal arc) women hiding their sense of being overwhelmed by the narrative. For other examples of this, see: Charlotte Wilson, Ingrid Berg, Rhonwen Castell, Winifred Pewitt (dw, we'll cover each and every one of them). I suppose Kristen can also slot somewhat into this archetype, too, but she's a little too openly codependent on her peers and open emotionally to quite fit in the slot. Anyways, still seeing a lot of that personality shining through, though not all of it's positive. Delroy definitely has a bit of a pretentious streak, which he totally did Not adopt from 15-year-old me, the girl who was 'too good' for reading YA or listening to popular music yet secretly loved Kelly Clarkson. Definitely not.

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 326. brb x oc

a/n: tumblr cut this chapter in hafl 8) (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/316/317/318/319/320/321/322/323/324/325

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca @callsign-magnolia

-

Three weeks went by in a flash.

And she was so happy.

Three weeks without drama now that Miranda was gone, three weeks decorating their house for Halloween and three weeks just anticipating his return. Bea woke up early that morning since he was arriving at the base in just a couple hours and mentally prepared herself on what to do.

The anticipation hung in the air as Beatrice moved through the house, making final adjustments to the Halloween decorations. The scent of lavender wafted through the rooms, entering her nose as she walked. Nikki, Gavin, and Aurora, dressed up already, were just napping on the couch with the dogs close by in case there was an emergency.

Beatrice couldn't help but smile as she glanced at the clock. Rooster's arrival was imminent, and the prospect of having the family reunited filled her with joy. She envisioned the moment when she’d see him,still wearing his flight suit and watch his smile widen as she meets his eyes.

Ugh,she missed him terribly.

With the kids peacefully napping on the couch, Beatrice took a moment to glance around the living room. Was everything in place?

Yes.

What else was there to do?

Nothing.

She huffed softly,rubbing her eyes, “Okay,okay,” she flexes her hands, this is the first time she’d drive the Bronco - she figured he’d like to see his car there even if she wanted to drive him home. Bea checks her phone, muttering the time and looking over at her kids.

Nikki usually follows her when she picks the twins so she doesn’t have to worry, plus the booster seats were already inside the car.

Beatrice took a deep breath, her nerves settling as she prepared to leave the house. The excitement and anticipation were palpable as she checked her reflection in the hallway mirror, making sure everything was in order.

That she was in order.

The soft creaking of the door alerted Nikki, who stirred from her nap on the couch. Her eyes widened with curiosity as she saw her mom getting ready to leave. Beatrice looked over her shoulder at Nikki, offering a gentle smile.

"Hey, sweetie," Beatrice whispered, not wanting to wake the twins yet. "Mommy's going to pick up Daddy. And you guys are coming with me,remember?"

"Dada home?"

Beatrice chuckled, lifting Nikki into her arms. "Yes, sweetheart. Daddy's coming home. Let's get you and your siblings ready, and we'll go pick him up together." she pecks her cheek, “Wait here,don’t move Nikki,I have to grab your siblings first.”

Gently picking up Aurora first, Beatrice cradled her daughter in her arms. The little girl stirred, her tiny hands reaching out as she adjusted to being in her mom's embrace. Beatrice whispered soothing words, her touch a comforting presence.

"Now, let's get your brother," Beatrice murmured as she carefully transferred Emma down to the stroller, “You two are getting so big,my goodness.”

Nikki, now wide awake, trailed behind her mother, eager to be part of the action. Beatrice reached into Gavin’s side, lifting him with the same gentle care. The twins, still in their onesies, blinked up at their mother tiredly, then closed their eyes once more.

With the twins on the stroller, Beatrice turned to Nikki. "Okay, my little helper, let's get to the car. Daddy's going to be so happy to see you all." Nikki clapped her hands in excitement, her eyes shining as she babbled. 

As Beatrice secured the twins in their car seats, Nikki eagerly climbed into her own, easily, ready for the adventure ahead. "Alright, everyone's ready," Beatrice declared, giving the car seats a final check, clasping them tight. She reached into the backseat to offer Nikki a high-five, a gesture they shared before every car ride now that she figured it out. "Let's go get Daddy!"

Nikki giggled, her infectious laughter filling the car as Beatrice started the engine. The drive to the naval base was filled with lively chatter from Nikki, who regaled her younger siblings with tales of Daddy coming home.

In her own way, of course.

Arriving at the base, the car passed through security, and Beatrice could see the jets already.

Calm down girl, calm down.

She inhales, rolling her shoulders with a small smile, “...almost there.”

The naval base buzzed with activity as Beatrice navigated the familiar route. The anticipation hung in the air, not just within her car but throughout the base. Families gathered, awaiting the return of their loved ones, and the sound of jet engines roared in the distance.

As she parked the Bronco in the designated area, Beatrice took a moment to glance at the rearview mirror. Nikki, Gavin, and Aurora were wide-eyed, their excitement matching her own. The twins, still in their car seats, looked around with curious eyes.

"We're here, guys," Beatrice announced, turning around to face her children. "Daddy's plane is going to land soon. Are you ready to see him?"

Nikki clapped her hands, a big grin on her face. "Dada plane! Dada home!"

Beatrice smiled, the happiness radiating from her daughter infectious. "Yes, sweetheart. Daddy's coming home. Let's go join the others and wait for him."

With a stroller in hand and Nikki holding onto it, they made their way towards the gathering of families. Beatrice found a spot with a clear view of the runway. She sighs, holding the strolled with one hand and Nikki with the other.

As they settled in, Nikki couldn't contain her enthusiasm. "Dada plane! Dada plane!"

Beatrice chuckled, "Yes, sweetheart. Daddy's plane will be here soon. Look at the sky; can you see it?"

Nikki squinted her eyes, her little face scrunched in concentration. "Dada plane!"

Beatrice followed Nikki's gaze and saw the distant speck of an approaching aircraft. She felt her heart race with anticipation. The moment she had been eagerly awaiting was finally drawing near.

Gavin and Aurora, still in their strollers, looked around with wide-eyes, perhaps sensing the excitement in the air. 

As the aircraft approached, the atmosphere became charged with the deafening roar of the jet engines. Families around them gathered closer to the runway, their eyes fixed on the descending plane. Beatrice held onto Nikki, her eyes scanning the sky.

And then, there it was.

The sleek form of the fighter jet, descending gracefully. Nikki's eyes widened, her little hands pointing to the sky. "Dada plane! Dada plane!"

How did she know that?

Bea doesn’t ask.

Beatrice's heart swelled with emotion as the jet touched down on the runway. The noise of the engines gradually subsided, replaced by the cheers and applause of the awaiting families. Beatrice stood, her eyes never leaving the plane as it taxied towards the designated area.

As the jet came to a stop, Beatrice took a deep breath, her hands trembling with excitement. She felt Nikki tugging at her, eager to get closer. "In a bit Birdie, daddy has to do something first.”

As the jet came to a stop, Beatrice could see the canopy of the plane being lifted. A figure in a flight suit emerged, descending the ladder with a deliberate and practiced grace. It was Rooster, helmet in hand, revealing a smile that reached his eyes as his caravans dropped to the bridge of his nose.

Nikki's excitement reached a new height. "Dada! Dada!" she squealed, her tiny feet attempting to run toward Rooster.

Beatrice chuckled, scooping Nikki up. "Hold on, sweetie. Daddy will come to us."

Rooster turns his head towards the noise, the known noise, his eyes locked onto Beatrice The distance between them seemed to vanish with every step he took, he dropped everything and sped up towards her. Beatrice's heart raced, her smile almost hurting as she saw him getting closer.

Rooster quickened his pace, the distance between them closing rapidly. Beatrice's eyes remained fixed on him, her heart beating in sync with each step he took. Nikki, in Beatrice's arms, squirmed with excitement, reaching out towards her approaching father.

As Rooster finally reached them, Beatrice set Nikki down, allowing her to rush into her father's open arms. Rooster knelt down, catching Nikki with a grin. He laughs with  joy as he lifted Nikki into the air, eliciting delighted giggles from the little girl,kissing her cheeks.

Beatrice approached, a smile playing on her lips. "Hi, Roos."

Rooster stood, Nikki now comfortably perched on his hip. He pulled Beatrice into a tight embrace, savoring the familiarity of her presence. "Hi, Bea." he smiles ‘You look even prettier than I remember.”

Beatrice couldn't help but blush at Rooster's compliment. "You're not so bad yourself, Lt Bradshaw." She teased, running her fingers through his short-cropped hair.

Rooster chuckled, his eyes twinkling with affection. "How have you been, gorgeous?"

"I've been managing, you know, the usual chaos," Beatrice replied, glancing down at Nikki who was now playing with Rooster's flight suit zipper. "And how about you? How was the trip back?" she leans against him as they walk back to the strollers.

Rooster smiled, the pride evident in his expression. "The trip was good. Smooth flight, no complications. It's good to be back, though. I missed you all."

Beatrice rested her head against Rooster's shoulder as they walked, savoring the closeness. "We missed you too. It's not the same without you around."

Rooster tightened his grip around Beatrice,Nikki, still on his hip, seemed fascinated by the flurry of activity on the base. Rooster couldn't help but chuckle at her wide-eyed wonder.

"Anything exciting happen while I was away?" Rooster asked, glancing at Beatrice.

Beatrice chuckled. "Just what I told you, nothing more." the twins look up at him ‘And…they got bigger.”

Rooster chuckled, glancing down at the twins who were observing him with wide eyes. "Bigger, huh? Looks like I missed some important growing up. "

[lou-struck]

Countdown

Belphegor x reader

Prompt: 😴+hypnosis

~ You and Belphie stumble across a hypnotist’s show while on a date in the human world.

WC: 1.8k

~This is one of the requested prompts for My Emoticon Expression’s Event; check out the Masterlist on my welcome page.

a/n: I’m not the biggest fan of hypnosis, it has always made me feel a bit uncomfortable, so I decided to put a spin on it and relate it back to the last time I saw a hypnotist perform.

You have been in the Devildom far too long and were in dire need of a bit of sunlight and some good ole fashion people’s food. And, as much as the Devildom may try to make a decent cup of coffee, it will never measure up to the real thing. 

You take a deep breath in and smell the fresh air and the faint aroma of ground coffee beans before turning to your yawning companion; After accidentally sleeping through your movie date last night, Belpheghor had begged to join you on your little trip to the Human world to make up for it. Which you, of course, agreed with. 

He is all too aware of the soft spot you have for him. But neither of you mind.

“Thank you for coming with me today Belphie,” you smile, leading him into the shop. “I didn’t want to come up here all by myself for the day. 

“Thank you for letting me,” He sighs, looking just a bit guilty as he rubs the back of his neck. “I really want to make it up to you after I fell asleep last night. Those chairs were just too comfy, and I always sleep better next to you.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Behlpie; it was an accident,” you say as the two of you make your way through the modest line. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But it happened to me, and it’s already so hard to get time with you.” he chuckles before looking at you with his deep purple gaze, “Sometimes, I don’t even want to share you with Beel.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words but try to remain composed by scanning the menu. The coffee shop has added some summertime drink specials that look so refreshing you just have to try them. You order a honey lavender iced latte for yourself and a sweet cold brew for Belphie since he needs all the help he can get to stay awake.

“Hey, what’s that over there by the stage?” He asks, glancing out the window. Following his gaze, you see that in the park across the street, there is a large crowd gathered next to the outdoor stage.

It must be a show,” you say, squinting to get a better look at the scene. A few people have already set out blankets on the ground, and more are on their way. “Do you want to check it out?”

He shrugs, “Sure, why not? It’s a good day for it.” The Togo bell is rung, and you go to pick up your drinks at the counter. Your name is horribly misspelled, but it’s nostalgic and makes the drink taste just a bit better as you and your Demon exit the shop.

It’s only a short walk to the stage, but the crowd makes it take longer than you had expected it would. By the time you make it to the foot of the stage, your drink is half finished. 

Just to your left is a large sign for the entertainment. Apparently, performing today is a hypnotist who goes by the name ‘The Amazing, The Astounding…Kevin’

“Oh, it’s a Hypnotist,” you say aloud, and Belphie looks at you with wide eyes.

“So this guy is just practicing magic out in the open, and no one thinks it’s weird?” he asks, reading the sign. 

“I don’t know if I would call it magic,” you say, trying your best to comfort the Demon, who has quite a different outlook on the concept of hypnosis thanks to a certain lustful older brother of his. “Hypnosis in the human world is more psychological than supernatural. It’s more about people responding to suggestions than being forced to do anything they don’t want to do,” you explain, hoping that you actually know what you’re talking about.

“That makes us sound kind of evil, doesn’t it?” He asks while taking a sip of his drink; you can tell that he is enjoying it based on the considerable amount he has had so far. 

“Not evil, just different,” you say, leading him to the seating area. The statement is comforting to him, but you can tell he doesn’t want to think about that any longer. It’s then, a man in a powder blue suit steps onto the stage. Who must be The Amazing Kevin? He introduces himself to the crowd and begins his show as you lean over to whisper into Belphie’s ear.

“I have no idea how he can wear a three-piece suit in this heat.” you number, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

“Oh hey,” you whisper again. “He’ll take volunteers from the audience, so if you want to volunteer, either raise your hand or try and listen to him.”

“Are you going to try to get hypnotized?” The Demon asks, looking around at all the eager volunteers waving their hands to get the Hypnotist’s attention.

The Hypnotist selects a few of them but makes sure to leave a few chairs open just in case there are a few people in the audience who are more suggestible as the show goes on.

You shake your head, “I think I just wanna watch. Let someone else enjoy it today.”

As the two of you talk quietly, the Hypnotist chooses a few of his volunteers and starts to tell them to relax.

“10…”

“9…”

“8…”

“Feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier as you begin to relax.”

At the Hypnotist’s suggestion, you see the volunteers on stage already sinking deeper into their folded chairs, and the crowd gasps. 

Belphie nudges you slightly, speaking to you in a hushed whisper. “Are they really falling for that? I guess the guy has a boring voice.”

And despite the situation you are in, the laugh that slips past your lips is much louder than you had anticipated drawing a few curious looks from the people around you.

But what you don’t notice is that you have caught the attention of the Hypnotist on the stage.

“7…”

“6…”

“5…”

The Hypnotist scans the audience looking for anyone drifting off at his command but continues speaking. A few volunteers fall harmlessly off their chairs and sprawl out onto the stage. 

“4…”

“3…”

“2…”

The last of the volunteers slump down and lean against each other, appearing to be deep in sleep. You look over at Blephie and see that he is dozing off, his hand holds yours tightly, but he still nestles in closer to you. Which tells you one thing. 

He fell asleep on his own. 

Kevin sees this and smiles victoriously. “Oh my, it looks like we have another volunteer in the audience, Ladies and gentlemen.” he makes his way down the steps of the stage and over to your seat. “I see you’ve been hiding your friend from us.” he grins before leaning close to you and whispering, “This is what you get for talking through my show.”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, Sir, he’s not hypnotized. He just fell asleep.” you try to explain as kindly as you can, but he shushes you.

“That’s what they all say.” He scoffs into his mic and turns his attention to Belphie, placing his hand on the Demon’s shoulder and looking at you impatiently.

“What’s his name?”

This isn’t going to end well, but The Amazing Kevin is kinda rude, so you’re okay with messing with him just a bit. “It’s Belphie,” you mumble. “But he really just fell asleep,” warning him one last time eases your conscience as he waves off your remark and continues on with the show. 

With his hand still on Belphies shoulder, he speaks to him calmly through the mic. “Now, Belphie,” he starts, “Listen only to my voice and allow yourself to fall deeper into relaxation.”

Belphie doesn’t even stir, continuing to rest peacefully against you.

Kevin takes this as a sign that the hypnosis is working and continues. “You feel amazing when your body is so relaxed; you can do anything and be anything.” His statement is meant to be inspirational, but you have a feeling he is going to try and use Belphie for the crowd’s entertainment. “So why not be a chicken?”

The crowd is all giggling at the Hypnotist’s words, ready to see your sleepy boyfriend perform for them. “Belphie, when I tap you on the head. You will be a chicken; you will act how you think a chicken would act and make your way up to the stage.”

With no hesitation, he taps the Avatar of Sloth on the head and waits for him to start clucking, but just as you said, he doesn’t budge.

“And you are a chicken,” he says again, sounding a bit frustrated, this time tapping him much harder on the head. Getting no reaction at all. 

The crowd murmurs in confusion amongst themselves, and he taps him again, shaking his head a bit. “Chicken!” he commands loudly, not even trying to hide the desperation in his voice.

“Mmm, what are you doing?” Belphie groans tiredly, smacking away the Hypnotist’s hand and earning a chuckle from the crowd. “I was comfy.”

The Not-So-Amazing Kevin blinks in surprise and looks at you in disbelief. “You were telling the truth?”

You nod, and Belphie sits up, looking at you apologetically. “Sorry, I guess I fell asleep, Mc. I really thought the coffee would keep me awake longer. Is the show over?”

“No, we are right in the middle of it.” you laugh, giving him a reassuring squeeze on his hand to let him know you are not upset. He smiles thankfully and finally notices the stunned performer in front of him.

“Oh, it’s you?” he says, “Why are you down here and not on stage with the volunteers?”

At the mention of the volunteers, the Hypnotist realizes that he has forgotten about the ten people currently passed out on stage and rushes away from you rather embarrassedly. 

“Should we go?” Belphie asks as the Hypnotist makes his way back up to the stage, “For some reason, I don’t like this guy. He seems mad at us.”

“He may be just a bit upset,” you giggle, already halfway out of your seat. “But we should go get something to eat.”

He nods and extends a hand, “That would be great.” You pull him to his feet, and walk away from the stage. A few people look at you as you walk away, but their attention is fleeting. 

“You wanna know something, Mc?” Belphie asks, glancing back lazily at the stage. 

“What’s up?”

"It’s odd, but for some reason, I am really craving some chicken right now.”

[xxwhiskeyxx]

You Don't Separate a Giant and Their Treasure

So as we all know, our dear Aether had to stay and do the ministry’s taxes. But what we didn’t know is he is mated to Mountain and Swiss. Another thing to note is that: Earth ghouls are quite territorial and incredibly possessive over their mates, and on top of all that, poor Mountain has separation anxiety due to his former pack being ripped away from him and just his normal attachment style.

So poor Mountain is forced to be away from his mate for months. Not coming back for nearly 7 months, of course, Aether had come to visit in brief intervals when he was able to and stayed for a few days here and there while Ghost was on the road because otherwise Mountain would’ve destroyed (another) tour bus with his pacing and anxious chewing but it wasn’t near enough for the Giant

Poor Swiss had to keep their mate as calm as possible when he’d cry during anxiety attacks over being separated from Aether and almost destroying Swiss during sex from his frustration and anxiety. FaceTiming and calling didn’t help much either. But as soon as they're back…Seestor is gonna learn just why you don’t separate an Earth giant and his mate

So I came up with this while I'm forced to participate in a work readiness class for job training. I hope you guys enjoy it, if you'd like a part 2 with the smut section feel free to ask! I just didn't feel I could do it justice just yet

-Love Whiskey

After so many months of touring, Ghost was finally returning home to the abbey. All of the ghouls were excited to get home, but no one was more excited than their drummer. Practically bouncing off the walls of the tour bus, Swiss had to get a right hand on his mate’s waist and tug him into his lap, distracting him with a kiss, to get him to sit still when Copia had given him a pleading look. “Easy Sunflower, we’ll see our Starlight soon, and we all know you’re excited. But Pops needs you to sit down, he doesn’t want you to get hurt from this shitty ass driveway and its potholes. Can you be a good boy and sit with me for these last few minutes, please?” Swiss coos, petting his mate’s hair.

Mountain whines pathetically but stays still, accepting Swiss’ kisses and snuggling into his neck. “Miss him…” he mumbles sadly, tail wrapping tightly around Swiss’ calf. Dewdrop and Rain look at each other knowingly, Phantom looking confused, “Is he talking about Aether?” he whispers to Cirrus. She nods, “Mountain and Swiss are his mates, Mountain doesn’t handle being away from either of them well, so this tour has been hard on him” she explains, “That’s why he came to visit sometimes, did you not notice just how clingy Mount was with him those days…and how Copia made sure we were all placed far away from their room?” Cumulus adds, giggling

Before long, they’re pulling into the abbey loading dock. The moment the bus is parked, Mountain is off like a rocket, bounding down the stairs and taking off through the crowd, darting around siblings and crew members alike. The other ghouls just shake their heads and laugh, Swiss giving him a head start before following, “Do make sure he doesn’t break our poor Aether!” Copia calls after him, a smile in his voice. Turning and giving a mock salute, Swiss takes off after his mate.

The Earth ghoul is running around the abbey, desperately to catch his mate’s scent, that identifiable mix of Bourbon, Lavender, and Ozone. He runs all the way from the loading dock to the library, down to the infirmary before he catches even a whiff. His head shoots up when he catches a sliver of lavender coming from the hallway leading down to their den, ‘I’m a fucking idiot’ he thinks to himself before shooting down the stairs.

Mountain follows the scent until he comes to a stop in front of his room, the scent is strongest here, slowly opening the door, he finds what he was looking for. Aether is sprawled in his bed, asleep on his stomach with his face buried in one of Mountain’s hoodies while snuggling Swiss’ pillow.

Butterflies erupt in the ghoul’s stomach as he creeps forward, not wanting to disturb his mate’s slumber. Ever so slowly and carefully, he slips into the bed behind Aether, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist as he drags him close and buries his face in his neck. Mountain’s breath is shaky as he takes that first inhale of his mate straight from the source

The smaller ghoul whines as he’s moved, stretching slightly as he tries to squirm to get comfortable. But after a moment, mauve eyes blink open at the scent of Evergreen, Warm Freshly tilled Soil, Morning Dew, Daphne & Winter Beauty flowers. Turning slightly, he spots the familiar mop of brown waves before there’s a soft whine. Aether’s stomach clenches as he fully turns over, “Hi Clover, did you just get back?” he asks softly, adjusting so Mountain can stay where he is. The drummer nods, “Wanted to see you…missed you so much” he mumbles, now trailing kisses along the skin in front of him until he finds his mark, gently nibbling the scar, having noticed just how bare Aether’s skin is which is something he has to change, now.

Aether sighs, running his fingers through the soft hair, “Missed you too, been too long.. Oh fuck…” he trails off as that hot mouth latches to the sensitive skin under his ear. Claws digging into plush hips, Mountain bullies Aether onto his back so he can hover over him protectively as he begins to mark the soft skin. His possessiveness rears its ugly head as he smells some random siblings scents on his mate, he knows it's probably from the infirmary but someone touched HIS Aether

The Quintessence ghoul can do nothing but let his mate mark him however he wants, not that he’d ever stop him, his only complaint is just how..intense Mountain gets. His entire throat will be completely covered in bruises, bitemarks, and hickeys by the time the giant is satisfied. “Fuck baby, you..you couldn’t wait even a few, mmmm, minutes, gotta make sure to remark what’s yours? Oh!” Mountain’s only response is to sink his fangs into the crook of his neck, growling deep in his throat. “Mine…My mate, my starlight, my treasure” he hisses in his ear

Swiss finally catch up after a few minutes, following the thumping sounds and loud moans. Sneakily peeking inside Mountain’s room, he sees Mount with a kneeling Aether who he has pinned to the headboard, fingers buried and pumping into the already sloppy-sounding hole, mouth latched to his throat, and oh��he has Aether’s face pressed right next to the vent that connects his room to rest of the abbey, specifically Sister Imperator's. This is how Mountain shows her why you don’t separate a ghoul from their mate